


Lavellan Lost ~In Progress~

by gingysaurusrex



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Multi, Mutual Non-Con, non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:46:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3893497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingysaurusrex/pseuds/gingysaurusrex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melana Lavellan finds herself swept up into the whirlwind that is the Inquisition. Taking on all of Thedas with her beast companion, Falon, she must right the chaos of her world. Which would be simple enough, if romance hadn't decide to muddle the situation. Can a mage without a past really know her own heart? **It's a Cullen/Solas triangle. Mostly fluff atm**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking Up

***Okay, so fair warning, this will be a TON of non-canon stuff. Seriously, it isn't going to be another rehash of the same scenes we've ALL seen in Dragon Age Inquisition. (Okay, some rehashing is necessary for the plot... DONT HATE ME) This fic was inspired by some fics I've read, and also by lots of nights without sleep, ha. I've been DYING to write something like this, so please be kind. Also, it progresses slowly, but keep going, it'll be worth it!***  
  
  
  
**_Shadows flint left and right, crackles of vibrant green light flash, illuminating hints of legs, of pincers. Run. Faster. The light urged her forward, an escape just ahead. Scrambling along stone, blood dribbling down scraped skin. Escape. Survival. It was all that mattered..._**  
  
_Pain. It crackled through her. All she could see was sickly green, blinding. She cried out for Falon, felt out vainly for the warmth of fur. Her hands were so heavy, the pain shot through her again, this time it was evident that it came from her left hand. It blazed, as if on fire and freezing at once. She had never known such pain. She cried out once again for Falon, the cry barely more than a sob. She shook. Alone, afraid. The PAIN, she felt for the darkness. She sought after it, and blissfully it began to take her._   _ **"MELANA**_ **!!!"**  
  
She came to with a violent jerk. Falon was alive. He had cried to her from the Fade. Her relief was only momentary, waking had not banished the pain, merely dulled it. She cried out as her hand crackled with a vicious green light.  _Where am I?_ She looked around at her surroundings, slabs of damp stone surrounding her. A dungeon. Her hands bound by heavy metal cuffs, chained to the floor. Melana blinked away the last of the haze in her mind, and the room came into painfully sharp focus.  Two guards stood in front of her, tense, careful not to look at her. The stink of fear and rage thick in the air. She heard the chiming of armored boots on stone.  _Someone is headed this way..._  She saw two figures round the corner ahead. Two women approached, one fully armored, the other cloaked.   
  
The warrior spoke,  "Tell me me why we shouldn't kill you now," Melana shrunk under her cold stare, "the Conclave is destroyed, everyone who attended is dead. Except for  _you._ " Her words hit like the blows of a sword. Melana's eyes widened, speechless. The short-haired brunette glared at her, scar on her lower cheek an angry red,  _Maker_ _, what is going on?_  The warrior circled her, grabbing her chained hand and shook it before throwing it back into Melana's chest, "Explain  _this._ " The green glow crackled, as if in response.   
  
"I... can't. I don't know what that is, or how it got there!" The words tumbled out, fear quivering in her voice.  _Maker_ _, please let Falon be far from here. Let him be safe..._    
  
"You're lying!" the armored woman snarled, grabbing her by the collar. The cloaked woman sprung forward, placing a hand on the other's arm,  
  
"We need her Cassandra." Her voice was soft, but firm. Melana sensed a silent power there, realizing that this redheaded rogue was the one to truly fear. Cold, calculated power thrummed through the woman. Cassandra released Melana, dropping her gaze. The rogue turned her gaze down to Melana's violet eyes,  "What do you remember of the Conclave?" The knot in her chest tightened, the words barely a escaping in choked syllables,  
  
"I remember... running.  _Things_  were chasing me... And then... a woman?" Melana frowned, "She reached out to me, but then... I don't know." The haze of her memories scared her. Was she forgetting again? The implication terrified her.  The warrior, Cassandra, pondered her words.   
  
"Head to the forward camp, Liliana. I will take her to the rift." The redhead nodded, turning and disappearing down the dark stone hall. Cassandra then turned to Melana, pulling her to her feet. She unlocked the chains binding her, a warning glance was all it took to tell Melana that any attempt to escape would end  _very_ badly.   
  
"What...  _did_ happen?" the words were shaky, and Melana dared not look the fierce woman in the eye. She focused instead on her hands, rubbing where the shackles had rubbed them raw, the glowing mark on her hand unsettling.  
  
"It will be easier to show you."  
  
****  
  
Cassandra lead her outside, and the sight of the sky above made Melana gasp. The sky was  _torn open_. The same vibrant green that crackled on her hand glowed above, the clouds swirled around a pillar of it. The snowy mountains surrounding them dwarfed by the height of it.   
  
"We call it 'the Breach'. It's a massive rift into the world of demons, the Fade. It grows larger with each passing hour. It is not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave." Cassandra said it solemnly, the braid crowning her short black hair reflecting a hint of green. It sickened Melana.  _I must be dreaming... a trick of the Fade, this can't be, it CAN"T._  
  
"An explosion can do that?" Melana was a mage herself, of sorts. She had seen magics most wouldn't believe, but even she could not fathom any magic that powerful, that  _destructive._ She swallowed, hard. The Breach terrified her, and she could scarcely look away when Cassandra spoke again,  
  
"This one did," she began to walk slowly, headed toward a cluster of tents, where people rushed about fervently, "Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world..." As she spoke, the Breach pulsed, expanding ever so slightly,Melana barely managed to stay on her feet as the mark on her hand crackled and pulsed at the same time. Her breath was ragged, her mind fogged.  _Focus. Stay upright, fight it._ Cassandra's hard eyes softened, reaching an arm out to steady the quivering elf. "Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads... and it  _is_  killing you." Melana's stomach knotted at her words, "It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn't much time." Melana's eyes met Cassandra's, reading the silent question there,   
  
"If what you say is true..." she knew it was, she could feel the pulses of the Breach as they spoke, "Then there is no denying the need to act. I... I want to help."  _I want to live._ Cassandra nodded, she could hear the determination in the elf's words. She did not trust her, by any means, but she knew the elf had no other options; and even though she shook with pain and fear, she was no coward.   
  
As they walked past the tents, toward a stony path, toward the Breach, Melana felt the rage directed at her. The people stopped to glare at her, her guilt decided in their eyes. She walked close to Cassandra, thankful for the warrior's brisk pace. She could not blame them for their rage, so many people had been at the Conclave... and what else did she look like than a knife-ear with the Mark of the Breach?   
  
****  
  
They made their way up the path, snow crunching underfoot. Soldiers and scouts running past them back toward the camp and the stone Chantry. Bodies lay scattered as they walked, more soldiers.  _Demons were here..._ Melana's heart pounded to the thrumming of the Breach, the fear and pain driving her every step. Cassandra lead her silently, a fact for which Melanawas thankful. Her thoughts turned to Falon. As they neared a bridge, cautiously she let her aura expand, searching for the presence she knew so well. The Fade was much more present now, deafening almost. Her head throbbed as she tried to sift through all the emotions and auras that bombarded her.  She fought through the pain, the chaos, and then, she felt the faintest hint of warmth.  ** _Falon_** _ **!!!**  _She shouted into the Fade, hoping, praying, that her friend would hear her.   
  
**CRACK!!!**    
  
The bridge they had been crossing was hit by a green blast, the ancient stone structure collapsing. Melana felt herself falling, crashing into the frozen river below. She hit hard, the solid ice scathing her skin, even through the light armor she wore.  Slowly, painfully, she pulled herself up,  looking for Cassandra. The warrior was still alive, risen as well, and drawing her sword, shrugging the shield off her back, her stance deadly. Fast approaching were two wraiths. Sickly, shadowy, hooded things, they reached for Cassandra with long, skeletal hands. She charged fearlessly, bashing the first with her shield, slashing the second in one fluid motion. Melana watched in awe. Then something moved toward her, barely visible through the corner of her eye. She spun around. A third wraith charged toward her, and she looked around for something,  _anything_ to defend herself with. She saw a bow laying on a nearby pile of rubble and she lunged for it, just barely dodging a swipe from the wraith. It felt awkward in her hands, a basic long bow very different from the recurve bows used by the Dalish.  She drew back the drawstring, whispering under her breath, the Elvish rolling off her tongue with power. An brilliant blue arrow formed in her hands, notched, ready to fire. She loosed the arrow, and it hit the wraith with an explosive force, slaying it with one hit. Melana rushed to Cassandra, who had just finished off the other two wraiths.  Spotting the bow in her hands, Cassandra raised her sword toward Melana,   
  
"Drop your weapon,  _now._ " Startled, she held out the bow, her other hand raised defensively, "Wait," the warrior sheathed her sword, "I must remember that you came willingly, and I cannot protect you." Melana paused, unsure, then slung the bow across her chest. Cassandra frowned, noticing the lack of quiver or arrows, "How did you...?"  
  
"Oh. I... uh, well..." Melana stuttered, unable to put two words together. Sighing, she unslung the bow and pointed it toward a distant tree and fired another arrow. The arrow sliced through the wood, toppling the massive pine. Cassandra's eyes widened,  
  
"I've never seen magic like that. You don't need a staff to channel it?" Melana flushed,   
  
"I did have a specialized bow, basically a staff with a draw string. It is definitely more tiring to do it this way, but it gives you more control over where the magic goes, less likely for someone to get hurt," she smiled, "that is, unless you are a terrible shot." These were the most words she had spoken to the warrior, and it made her a little nervous. Cassandra eyed the bow warily, as if it would sprout wings and fly.   
  
"As long as you have it under control, I suppose it is no different from any other magic."   
  
****  
  
They proceeded toward the Breach, fighting the occasional stray wraith as they went, but they proceeded fairly uninterrupted.  As they neared a stone battlement of sorts, the sound of fighting echoed toward them. Cassandra broke into a sprint, calling for Melana to follow her. As they topped a hill, Melana was shocked by what she saw below. A group of soldiers, an elf mage, and a dwarf were fighting a large cluster of wraiths, spirits, and lesser demons. Above them, a Fade rift pulsed with a sickly green glow, allowing even more creatures to cross into their realm. Cassandra was already down the hill and nearing the fight when Melana finally collected herself. She drew her bow, firing shot after shot. The creatures were stronger than before, their proximity to the Fade rift fueling them.   
  
Slowly, their numbers dwindled, fewer coming through the rift. Melana jogged closer to the group, the soldiers cutting down the last wraith. The Elven mage spotted her, the mark on her hand thrumming at the closeness of the rift. He ran toward her, grabbed her marked hand, thrust it toward the rift, "Quickly, before more come through!" A green stream of magic shot from the mark, and she felt it connect to the rift. It tugged at her, trying to draw her into the Fade, and terrified, she whipped her hand back. The stream disconnected from the rift, and with a loud crack, it disappeared. She looked down at her hand in shock, then up at the elf next to her.  
  
"What did you do?" she asked, unsure of what had just happened,   
  
" _I_  did nothing. The credit is yours." Melana stared at the mark once  again, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach, it felt...  _familiar._  It was unsettling. She felt like she had experienced magic of its like before, but could not remember why. The knot in her stomach tightened and she felt ill,  _why is this happening to me?_  "Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand, " the  elf continued, "I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake, and it seems I was correct." His tone was matter-of-fact, as if he were commenting on something as common place as the weather.   
  
"So it could close the Breach itself," Cassandra had joined them. The male elf nodded,   
  
"Possibly," he turned back to Melana, "It seems you hold the key to our salvation."   
  
"Good to know! And here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever." Melana was startled by the third voice to chime in, she had forgotten entirely about the dwarf behind her. His voice was sarcastic and light, and she couldn't help but smile just a little. The dwarf had strawberry blonde  hair, pulled back in a short ponytail, intelligent blue eyes, and just a hit of stubble. He was roguishly handsome, even for a dwarf. He walked toward them, nodding at Melana, "Varric Tethras, rogue, storyteller, and occasional unwelcome tag-a-long." he winked mischievously at Cassandra as he said the last part, earning a glare in return. Melana couldn't help but chuckle despite herself at the little exchange.   
  
"That's... a nice crossbow you've got there," commented Melana. She had just noticed the large device slung across the dwarf's back. It looked dauntingly complex, but even at a distance she could tell the immaculate craftsmanship. She'd never seen anything like it. Varric sighed happily as he looked over his shoulder at it,  
  
"Ah, isn't she? Bianca and I have been through a lot together."  
  
"You named your crossbow Bianca?"   
  
"Of course, and she'll be great company in the valley," replied Varric.   
  
"Absolutely not," interjected Cassandra, "Your help is appreciated, Varric, but..." he cut her off,   
  
"Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore." He smiled wolfishly, "You  _need_  me." Cassandra turned away from him, sighing in exacerbation. The elf stepped forward,   
  
"My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions," he smiled, "I am pleased to see you yet live." Her violet eyes met his light blue, intrigued by his second statement,   
  
"He means, 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept'" Varric commented, smirking. Melana's eyes widened, her head tilting ever so slightly, she opened her mouth to thank him, and he cut her off, "If you wish to know more, I'd be happy to tell you, once the Breach is dealt with." She nodded. Solas then turned to face Cassandra, " Your prisoner is indeed a mage, yet I find it difficult to imagine  _any_  mage having such power." Cassandra nodded in response,   
  
"Understood. Come, we must rendezvous with Liliana, and seal the Breach before the entire valley is over run with demons." The group murmured words of agreement as they followed Cassandra forward. Varric paused to grin at Melana,  
  
"Well, Bianca is excited."  
  
****  
  
The party soon met up with Liliana at a small outpost nearing the Breach. They planned their approach of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, or what was left of it. The Conclave had taken place in the temple, and the Breach now remained where the temple had once stood. Scouts reported of ruins, and demons crawling throughout the entire area. It was decided that Liliana would take her scouts through the mountains to reach the temple first, while the rest of the party hit the temple from the front with what remained of the soldiers. As they headed out Melana's stomach churned at the idea of getting closer to the Breach. Her hand thrummed and pulsed more and more painfully the closer they got.   
  
The temple slowly came into view, the once great structure in charred ruins. They could hear the soldiers fighting growing louder with each step. Melana  tried to shake off her fear, gripping her bow tightly, mentally preparing for the fight ahead.  And then she felt it.  _ **Melana**_ _ **?**_ It was Falon, he called out to her through the Fade. She gasped out loud stopping in her tracks, and from Solas's stiffening beside her, she could tell that he heard it too. Cassandra and Varric stopped as well, looking at her warily unsure of why she had stopped. She ignored them, closing her eyes and letting her aura spread outward, searching for Falon's presence. She found it quickly. He was nearby, running frantically toward her.  It wasn't long before she could hear him. The other's heard it too, tensing and reaching for their weapons. Melana held up her hand, signaling them to keep them sheathed. The sound grew louder, rolling beats like thunder. They all shifted uneasily, but did not draw. Melana ran toward the sound, her heart in her throat.  _Falon,_ _Maker, please let it be him._  
  
Solas frowned as the small elf ran from them, her long ebony hair waving behind her like a banner. The call from the Fade had been strong, and unlike anything he had experienced. First the mark, and now this,  _who is this woman?_ And then he saw it. A mighty beast topping the hill. By the gasps of the two beside him, he could tell he was not imagining things. It was a mass of white fur, lithe and graceful, loping toward them. Toward  _her_. It had the build and features of a fennec fox, but the size and grandeur of a great wolf. And trailing behind it, it had not one, but  _three_  tails. It was not often the elf was  speechless, but in this moment, his mind was blank save for awe.   
  
Tears began streaming down Melana's cheeks as soon as Falon had come into view. He saw her as well, and let out a high pitched howl as he ran toward her. They met in a tumble of fur and snow. He licked her face fervently,and laughing she batted him away, burying her face into the soft fur of his chest. Even sitting, he towered over her, taller than most men. He nuzzled the small elf, crooning softly.  She sobbed without abandon, and Falon could feel how terrified she had been. Without saying anything, the two knew everything the other felt and thought. Slowly, Melana rose to her feet, affectionately  ruffling the fur atop Falon's head. She turned to walk back to the group, who still stood frozen, unsure. Falon did not follow her. He sat quietly and waited. He could smell the fear and confusion from them, and did not wish to provoke them. As she neared them, Varric was the first to break the silence,   
  
"Adraste's tits, what  _is that?!_ " Melana flushed red, she had never let Falon be seen by strangers before, and she had nothing prepared for such an occasion.   
  
"That... um, is Falon..." She said quietly, shuffling from one foot to the other. Solas shook his head in disbelief,   
  
"That, Varric, that is a Fen'ethera, a dream wolf of protection... They are supposed to be extinct." Cassandra's brow furrowed suspiciously,  
  
"Dream wolf? Is it some kind of demon?" Solas chuckled at the the Seeker's response,   
  
"No, no nothing like that. It is but a beast, Lady Seeker. They were called dream wolves due to their strong connection to the Fade. They were the companions of ancient elves, like the mabari, or the great war wolves of old. As pups they bonded to individual elves, protecting that elf for the remainder of their life. They were fiercely loyal, and immensely powerful, but even in those ancient times they were rare."  
  
As the elf spoke, Falon approached them slowly, anxious to return to his da'assan's side. He snorted at being called 'a beast'. Melana smirked, hearing his prideful thought. He growled playfully at her, nudging her in the back, knocking her of balance, then he caught her leather armor gently in teeth keeping her from falling. She righted herself, chuckling. He lay down beside her, his head just above her waist. She reached over and scratched behind his ear idly. She was calm now. Her aura serene, the terror she had felt was gone.   
  
"Falon is my partner," Melana said quietly. Varric was the one shaking his head now,   
  
"A giant ass tear in the Fade, a magic fade closing mark, and now you have a Fade fox the size of a dragonling. Could this day get any weirder?" Varric shrugged, "Well, the Breach isn't going to close itself, and I'd rather have Falon here on my team, don't you think, Seeker?" Cassandra's face looked sour, she was unsure of what to think of their marked companion by herself, but now this? And as much as she hated to admit, the dwarf had a point.   
  
"Very well, I hope your companion knows how to fight," she said to Melana, "on to the Breach."


	2. The Wrath of Heaven

The clash of swords and shields rang through the air, the fight for survival all too real. His men were well trained, but the demon numbers were overwhelming for such a small force. He fought harder, his sword and shield an extension of him, the rhythm of battle an echo of his own pounding heart. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his muscles burned with a familiar heat. This was what he was good at, what he was  _meant_ to do. He let out a ferocious growl as he slashed through another wraith, nearby he heard one of his men cry out, wounded. He fought to reach the man side, cutting down enemies or repelling them with a strong bash of his shield. He recognized the warrior as a recruit named Flynn. He drug the young man to his feet, handing him one of his last health draughts, ordering the man to retreat. He saw the flare of protest in the young man's eyes, but he nodded to his Commander. As he retreated, he managed to grab another wounded soldier, helping him out the field of battle.   
  
Their numbers were dwindling fast, and the thought of losing more good men enraged him.  _Where is Cassandra??_  He prayed to the Maker that she had survived with the prisoner. Liliana's scouts claimed she could close the rifts like the one nearby, perhaps the Breach itself. He cut down a wraith, blocking the swipes from another. A hit from behind caught him off guard, and he stumbled, barely dodging the creatures in front of him. He regained his footing quickly, resuming his assault on the seemingly endless swarm of demons. If he was faltering, he feared for his men. Most were young recruits, not veteran warriors. The weight of their lives rested on his shoulders. He fought with new fervor, the faces of his men flashing through his mind. He saw a shade from the corner of his eye, and turned to swing, but before he could, a brilliant blue arrow pierced it, then two more in quick succession. He spun to find the archer, and was startled to see the great white beast that barreled toward the battle. He tensed, ready to charge after the blur of white. But it ran past him, lunging at a Rage demon, shredding it in seconds. He watched in awe for a few seconds, before returning to the thick of it, keeping an eye on the beast, but welcoming whatever manner of intervention it was. As he fought, he saw more of the brilliant blue arrows fly, some exploding on contact, others freezing or burning.   
  
He heard Cassandra before he saw her, her taunting war cries baiting the mindless demons. She fought her way to his side, the number of demons dwindling, "Commander Cullen! Varric and Solas are with me, along with the prisoner." She had to shout over the sounds of battle, but her voice carried well enough.  
  
"What of the white beast?" he asked, another shade falling to his blade, and Cassandra laughed dryly,   
  
"Its a long story."   
  
They beat the demons down to a few stragglers, and Cullen was proud of his men. He sent the wounded back to Haven, only a few soldiers remained fit for duty. They had reached the rift, and Solas called out for it to be closed. Cullen turned to the direction Solas held yelled, and he saw a lithe, hooded figure jogging toward them, a bow slung over her shoulder. Her left hand glowed the same as the rift above them. She lifted it toward the rift, an arch of green magic connected with the rift, then she whipped her hang back, as if reigning in a wild mount. The rift closed with a loud CRACK.  The woman leaned over, placing her hands on her knees, as if to catch her breathe. The white beast loped over to her, nuzzling her side before licking the side of her face, knocking back her hood. Glossy black hair tumbled down her back and for a moment Cullen wondered how all of it had been tucked into the hood in the first place. Then he saw her ears.  _An elf..._   _That might explain the war beast,_ he reasoned.  He was considerably curious, and was about to walk over to her when Cassandra spoke,   
  
"Commander Cullen?" Cassandra's voice was quiet but stern, and he spun back around to face her. Her brow glistened with the effort of the fight. "Please take the remainder of your men back to Haven. We are going to attempt to close the Breach. If we fail, Maker forbid, we need someone there to protect the people." Cullen nodded, but frowned ever so slightly,   
  
"Will you be alright to proceed into the Temple? There are bound to be more demons." Varric chuckled from behind him,   
  
"Curly, we'll be fine. You did see her little pet there in action, right?" Cullen glanced over at the elf again, she was now scratching the beast's head and conversing with the other elf, Solas.     
  
"I suppose you are right. Good luck."  
  
****  
  
The Commander had gathered the rest of his troops and marched back toward the camp where she'd been held. Haven, they called it. She had seen him fight, seen the confidence in which he struck.  _A true warrior._  Melana mused quietly, Falon walking by her side. He was sending her images of the battle, clearly very proud of himself. They had never fought demons before. They wove through stone debris, getting closer and to the Breach. She was oddly calm, the mark still ached, but with Falon at her side, her mental strength had returned. The party walked quietly  until they reached a charred  opening in the debris. Bodies lay everywhere, flash burned, frozen in the same positions they had died in. As they rounded a corner, Cassandra said quietly, "That's where they found you. They said you... walked out of a rift... They say there was a woman in the rift behind you..." Melana found her words to be unsettling. Crossing into the Fade and surviving? It was unheard of, one of the few things the people of Thedas agreed upon. As they rounded another corridor, they met with Liliana and her scouts.   
  
"The ruin is cleared of stragglers, Lady Seeker," a scout reported, "This way." He lead them through a few turns, toward a damaged, but mostly intact balcony, bringing them face to face with the Breach. Melana felt as if she were staring into eternity, the pillar of green light stretched from the rift just above their heads to beyond the clouds. She felt impossibly small. Falon nudged her palm with his wet nose, projecting comforting thoughts to her.  _This is it..._  More bodies lay charred around them, burnt statues of agony.  _So many lives... So many dead... Why aren't I one of them?_ She stared into the rubble below, partial walls still standing, but the scarred earth below mostly clear of loose debris.  _Swallowed by the Fade... like the rest of the world if it isn't stopped. If_ I _don't stop it._ Her stomach rolled, her chest tight. Falon whined quietly beside her.    
  
"The Breach  _is_ a long way up," remarked Varric, the dwarf whistling and spinning slowly, his eyes toward the swirling mass overheard. Cassandra came up beside Melana, her expression firm, but her eyes soft,  
  
"This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?" the elf nodded slightly, her body tense,   
  
"I'll try... but I don't know if I can reach that, let alone close it," her voice was soft, barely audible.  _How would it even be possible?_ Melana felt a shiver run through her, her hand tightening in Falon's fur.  
  
"You may not need to," Solas commented, gesturing toward the rift in front of them, "this rift was the first, and it is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach." The rift crackled, as if in response, the accompanying pulse of the mark made Melana clutch her hand, a pained gasp escaping her chest. Varric reached forward and patted her back gently, Falon watching him closely,   
  
"We're here for ya, Sparky," he smiled wryly, "let's kick some magic green ass." Melana looked down at him, surprised by the warmth in his voice.   
  
"Let's find a way down there," Cassandra turned, heading toward what presumably had been a staircase at some point. The party followed.   
  
 **"Now is the hour of our victory.Bring forth the sacrifice"**  
  
A disembodied voice spoke overhead, deep, male, and sinister. Melana flinched at the sound, and Falon growled beside her,  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"At a guess, the person who created the Breach," replied Solas, his voice as troubled as she felt. As they neared the space beneath the rift, the terrain changed. Brilliant red crystals jutted from the ground, glowing with an omnious light. Melana felt an eerie humming as she passed them. It was similar to the light trill of the blue lyrium some mages used, only...  _wrong._  She felt as if it called to her, like a nightmare luring you into the dark. Falon pressed into her side, his stance protective.   
  
"You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker," hissed Varric.  _RED lyrium?_ Melana had never heard of such a thing.   
  
"I see it, Varric," replied Cassandra stonily.  
  
"But what's it  _doing_  here?" No one had an answer, all of them unsettled by it's presence. "It's evil. Whatever you do, don't touch it." The dwarf hissed. Melana swallowed, trying to clear the knot in her throat.   
  
 **"Keep the sacrifice still."**  
  
The voice boomed once again, louder as they neared the rift.   
  
 **"Someone help me!"**  
  
A second voice cried out from above, an older woman. Melana frowned, the voice strangely familiar. "That was Devine Justinia's voice!" gasped Cassandra, running to the space directly below the rift. It floated in front of the remains of a tower, more red lyrium jutted out of it, the light of the two casting the ground in eerie shadows. The group joined Cassandra.  
  
 **"What's going on here?"**  
  
Cassandra spun on heel, turning to Melana, "That was  _your_ voice! Most Holy called out to you. But..." her voice trailed off as she looked upward, tendrils of the rift spreading. There was a flash of bright light, and a scene played out before them.  
  
  
 _A hazy figure stood across from a robed woman dangling in the air. Red tendrils of magic swathed her arms, holding her in place. She wore the white and red robes of the Chantry, the fanned cowl of the devout crowned her head. She was the Devine, head of the Chantry. She cried out for help, struggling against the force that held her. A shadowy copy of Melana ran into view, "What's going on here?"  Both figures turned to her,  
  
"Run while you can, warn them!" called out Devine, desperation in her voice. The dark male figure glared at her with red eyes, the only feature distinguishable in his hazy form,   
  
"We have an intruder," it drawled, the dark voice they had heard above them. It raised it arm, pointing at her with long, skeletal hands, "Slay the elf!"_  
  
  
The rift flashed brilliant white once more, the vision disappearing. "You  _were_  there! Who attacked? And the Devine, is she...? Was that vision true? What were we seeing?" Cassandra bombarded Melana with questions, causing her to take a timid step back,   
  
"I- I don't remember!" she stammered, even more confused than Cassandra. She had no memory of the exchange, and even after seeing it, the memory felt foreign to her.   
  
"Echoes of what happened here," Solas said quietly, gazing up at the rift, "The Fade bleeds into this place." He turned back to them, "This rift is not sealed, but it is closed... albeit temporarily. I believe that with the mark, the rift can be opened, and then sealed properly and safely." Falon bristled at Melana's side. His da'assan carried the mark, and this burden of opening and closing would fall to her. "However, doing so will likely attract attention on the other side." Cassandra turned to the scouts positioned around the temple, shouting to them,   
  
"That means demons! Stand ready!"  
  
****  
  
Melana stared upward at the rift, her heart in her throat.  ** _I am here, da'assan_** , Falon murmured to her through the Fade. He stood at her right, braced for battle. The elf Solas stood to her left. He had talked her through the process, but still she was afraid. His aura overlapped hers, lending  her strength. She felt guilty for drawing from it, but he had demanded it. Slowly, she lifted her marked hand, the mark crackling as she raised it to the rift. A brilliant green stream shot out and connected to the rift, and she immediately felt the tug of the Fade. She whipped her hand back, and the rift exploded open, knocking her back.   
  
Just below the rift, a demon began to materialize.  _Pride._  It was massive, towering a story high. Vicious looking horns studded its grey scaled body, four massive horns twisting from it head.  It roared into the air, an eyeless face and massive teeth adding to its fearsome appearance.  Melana steadied her nerve and unslung her bow. The other archers had already started firing, Cassandra and Falon charging the demon. Solas stayed at her side, his aura still wrapped around her, comforting in a way she had not expected. He spun his staff, elemental ice magic barraging the pride demon. Melana drew back the bow, and let the Elvish words find her.  _I send this arrow to the heart of my enemy. Let them fall, let them falter, never to rise again._ The words flowed from her, strengthening her spell. She loosed the lyrium blue arrow. It struck the pride demon's chest, erupting into blue flames. She fired again, the words a chant.   
  
Falon lunged at the pride demon's ankle, sinking his razor fangs into the scaly flesh. Black ichor sprayed into his mouth, the demon howling in pain. It fell on a knee, opening up to Cassandra's blade. She struck without hesitation, landing a destructive blow. The pride demon  roared, weakened. Yet another  blue arrow embedded in it's scales, exploding. With another roar, the pride demon disintegrated, pulled back through the rift.  
  
"NOW! CLOSE THE RIFT!"   
  
Melana threw her hand into the air, the mark connecting to the rift. The Fade tugged at her, stronger than ever before. Panic bubbled in her as she tried to pull her hand back. The resistance seemed futile, her arm burning under the strain. She grabbed her wrist with the opposite hand, pulling even harder. She felt the rift shift, giving way. She pulled,  _hard_. With an earth shattering boom the rift slammed closed. The force of it knocked her to her knees. The pillar of green light swirled up toward the sky, vanishing.  _I_ _t's over..._ The fatigue hit her. She felt herself hit the dirt, dull shouts all around her. _Creators_ _take me..._


	3. The Solace of Home

_**Soft grass beneath her feet, a familiar presence at her side, the sun warming her skin. She breathed in deeply, the smells of the forest wrapping her in comfort. Home...**_ **But what is home? _The scene changed, she stumbled through the rain, lost and fatigued. She was alone, cold rain drops stinging her exposed skin. Voices nearby. She ran desperately toward them. Anything to no longer be alone. Figures came into view, turning toward the sound of her approach. She collapsed, and they ran toward her._**  
  
 _Melana was just a teen when she had stumbled into the hunters. She had been wandering the wood for days, delirious. When they rescued her, she was near death. The hunters took the young elf back to their Keeper for healing. She worked for hours on the young woman, coaxing her back from the brink. Unconscious, she thrashed, a sob escaping her chest, along with a string of Elvish the Keeper could not translate. A commotion in the camp drew the Keeper from the tent. Walking through the camp was a mighty white beast. It approached the Keeper, and she felt a tug in her mind, images of the young elf projected to her, a question plain in their intent. **Da'assan.**  It was a gentle demand. Unsure, the Keeper opened the tent  flap behind her, revealing the elf inside. The fox-beast went to her side, where he stayed until she awoke.   
  
The Lavellan clan was uneasy with Melana's arrival. She had no vallaslin, the face tattoos of the Dalish, and her Fen'ethera companion, Falon, was a fearsome sight. When she awoke, she had no memory of who she was or where she had come from, only her name, and Falon's. She could not understand them, speaking only in frantic Elvish. She used Falon as a translator, he was able to convey through images what she said. The Keeper was fascinated by Melana. The Dalish were a dim shadow of their ancestors, knowing only bits and pieces of the Elvish language and lore. So much knowledge had been lost after their enslavement by the Tevinter Imperium. The Keeper took Melana on as her apprentice, teaching her to speak Thedosian, while learning more about the Elvish language in return. The Keeper believed her to be a savior sent to the People, destined to rise them back to their former glory. While Melana did not share her high aspirations, her respect for the Lavellan clan its Keeper drove her to learn, to train hard. It was this belief that made the Keeper send her to the Conclave, the world was changing, and she believed Melana needed to be there when it happened.   
  
The Conclave... visions of pain and death flashed with a chaotic frenzy.   
  
 **No... NO!!!**  
  
The visions faded, and Melana found her self once again in the forest, grass under her bare feet.  **I'm asleep, this is the Fade** , she realized. The realization let her gain a certain amount of control over the Fade around her. She was by a small spring, the one she had bathed in frequently living with the clan. Towering oaks surrounded her, a canopy of emerald over head. She walked over to the water, her footsteps silent in the lush grass. Kneeling, she looked at her reflection in the pool. Black hair framed her face in long, loose ringlets, nearly touching the ground as she knelt. Her violet eyes stood out in stark contrast to her raven hair and ivory skin. She reached up to to touch her cheek, Is this the face of change? How could she be a hero? She was a lost girl with no past. The memories of recent events played out in front of her in the glassy water. There was so much sadness there, so much unnecessary loss. Guilt plagued her, how did she deserve to live and the others not?   
  
She did not realize she was crying until the first sob escaped her lips. Her breathe hitched and she let the tears come, let the pain wash over her. Better here, in the Fade, then in front of anyone else. She was so scared, so lost. She had struggled with her identity before, but now... was she chosen by the Creators for some higher purpose? Why her? All she wanted was to live in the forest, free. Free to hunt and play with Falon. She looked  around her as it dawned her that he was not here with her. He often joined her in the Fade as she slept, their bond drawing their dreams together.   
  
 **"Your Fen'ethera wished to join you, da'assan, but your slumber is too deep."**  a deep voice rumbled from behind her and she jumped up with a gasp. Behind her sat a mighty wolf, even larger than Falon. The wolf was a dark grey, and its eyes a ruby red. Melana stared at it timidly, it had called her Little Arrow, the name only Falon had ever used. The beast chuckled,  **"Do not be afraid, da'assan. I am not here to harm you. I came to check on you."**  Her body relaxed some, she felt no hostility from the wolf,   
  
 **"Who... are you?"**    
  
 **"I have many names, but you may know me as Fen'Harel."**  Melana gasped,   
  
 **"The Dread Wolf?!"**  Once again, the wolf chuckled.  
  
 **"You have nothing to fear from me, da'assan. I have no power over you in this place. I merely came to see if you yet live. You are strong, little one. Not many could have survived what you have endured."**  His rumbling voice almost sounded pained with the last words.  **"You still have much ahead of you, and the path will not be easy. Hold on to that strength, da'assan."** The wolf stood slowly, walking over to her. Melana was still unsure of the wolf's intentions, but she did not cower. The wolf lowered its head to her, a show of respect,  **"I hope you succeed where I failed, little one. I will be watching."** And with that the wolf vanished.  
  
****_  
  
Cassandra watched healer Adan work. He visited the small cabin hourly to check on the elf tucked into bed. Melana, Falon had told them, was her name. The healer was convinced she would awaken, but could not guess when. Not knowing frustrated Cassandra to no end. She found herself to be strangely protective of the young woman, visiting each morning and evening to check on her condition. The mark on her hand had stopped spreading, but it still remained, glowing softly. As Adan finished his work, he gave Cassandra a brief confirmation of no change, and left the cabin. She moved to the small chair at Melana's bedside, then sat down. Falon watched her from his position at the end of the bed, his massive body on the floor, his head on the bed. His long ears were drooped, his intelligent gold eyes dull. He had not left Melana alone for more than a few moments in the two days she'd been unconscious. His loyalty and concern for his companion gave Cassandra new respect for the beast. She had never seen a bond of their like before. If she was honest with herself, she had never seen anyone of Melana's like before either.   
  
Deep in her heart, Cassandra believed the elf innocent. Against all logic, regardless of the oddities around surrounding her, Cassandra was certain. Through everything she was put through, not once had the elf shown hostility, even when Cassandra herself had threatened her. As a Seeker, Cassandra had a relative amount of sensitivity to magical auras, and what she felt from Melana had surprised her. There was no malevolence to her, in fact, the elf radiated a sense of child-like innocence and naivety. Such a trait was so rare in their troubled times, Cassandra felt herself driven to protect it, to protect  _her._  She had seen Melana quiver with fear as she stared into the Breach, and still march forward to face it.  There was a certain righteousness in that.   
  
She sat by Melana's side for some time, until Varric came to relieve her.   
  
****  
  
Commander Cullen found himself distracted during drills. After calling out the same order three times, he turned the duty over to one of his lieutenants. During the days after stabilizing the Breach, his mind repeatedly wandered toward the marked elf. He had not seen her since the battle, and his curiosity had been getting the better of him. Cullen had quizzed Seeker Cassandra about her, feigning only strategic interest. She knew very little, and directed his inquiries toward the apostate Solas. The elf mage set Cullen on edge, so he had politely declined. He walked away from the small training camp they had set up just outside Haven's walls, heading for the stable. His mount Atlas whinnied as he approached. The large black draft was a horse built for battle. Thick legs and large hooves gave it the strength and balance to wear the heavy armor required of it, and the mount was deceptively fast. Cullen entered Atlas's stall, grabbing a brush from a nearby rack as he went. He began the mindless routine of grooming the horse, allowing his mind to wander.   
  
Again his mind returned to the mysterious elf and her seemingly legendary companion. Never before had Cullen seen such a beast. He had gotten to see it a few times in the past days, but only for a few moments. Closer up, Cullen had realized it resembled a fennec fox more than a wolf, with its lean build, long face, and large ears. Not to mention the beasts fox-like tails.  _Maker's breathe, three tails._ The whole idea of it befuddled him. He'd never heard of such a thing. Even if he ignored the fact of her companion entirely, the elf herself confounded him. Even during his time as a Templar, he had never seen a mage fight the way she did. Everything about her was bafflingly foreign to him. Atlas neighed with protest, and Cullen realized his hands had stopped moving on the horse's skin. He resumed his work, but still could not focus.  _Perhaps I should just visit her, sate my curiosity._  The thought seemed callus to him. She was not an object to be oggled at, she was a person, one recovering from a great trauma. He mulled over the idea. He could think of no reason why a visit would be frowned upon. He found himself coerced into it. He finished with Atlas, and headed out of the stable toward Haven's gates, toward her cabin.  
  
Cullen knocked lightly on the door before entering. As he stepped into the small cabin he immediately saw the mass of white at the end of the bed. Its ears perked slightly as it turned to look at him. Golden eyes met his, and Cullen could immediately see the intelligence there, even from across the room. He remembered hearing the animal could speak, and though he had dismissed it at the time, now he wasn't so sure. It had a  _presence._  Similar to that of a mage, a tie to the Fade. As he approached, that presence expanded, a faint question pushed toward him. It wasn't words, but more of a feeling, a demand of intent. "I am Commander Cullen," he started awkwardly, he felt odd talking to the beast, "I came to check on..." he trailed off, realizing he had nothing to call her. The beast cocked its head ever so slightly, before a wave of realization came from him.  **She is called Melana by others,** a voice growled in his head,  **and I am known as Falon to her.**  Cullen was speechless.  _It spoke._ Falon lowered his head back to its place on the bed, a semblance of permission directed toward the Commander.   
  
He walked over to Melana's bedside. His armor jingled as he moved, and he froze, half expecting her to awaken. When she did not, he relaxed some. Looking down at her, he was struck by how  _small_  she appeared.  _How had such a tiny thing closed the Breach?_  He was just as startled by how lovely she was. Her pale skin and raven hair stood out against the crimson bedding around her, a peaceful expression across the dainty features of her face. The soft light of the fireplace made her skin almost glow, and he could not deny that she looked... ethereal. His eyes followed the lines of her neck down to her chest, to the collar of the thin tunic she wore. Her chest rose and fell slowly in light intervals, and Cullen flushed red when his eyes wandered down to the movement. The pale green tunic swooped low on her chest, revealing a hint of the woman beneath it. He turned his head away, eyes shut tight. As small and innocent as she appeared, she was indeed a fully developed woman. Frustrated with himself and by his own embarrassment, Cullen turned on his heel and exited the cabin, nodding to Falon as he went. The visit had done him no favors, his curiosity about her all the more piqued.    
  
****  
  
Melana groaned softly as she stretched, her entire body  _ached_. She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. The room around her was unfamiliar, and for a moment she was confused.  _The Breach._  She looked down at her left hand, and the mark glowed softly. It no longer hurt, but its continued presence worried her. Melana dropped her head into her hands, rubbing her temples,  _did I fail to close the Breach_ _?_  Falon whined at the end of the bed, and she looked up at him. His fur was matted, the normally glossy white dulled to grey. His golden eyes were alert, but she could feel the weariness radiating from him. _How long was I out ?_ She wondered. The images of the sun rising and setting twice flashed in her mind, riddled with fierce concern. She smiled at Falon, patting the bed beside her. He was at her side in moments, his large front paws on the bed, back legs on the floor. He pressed his head into her chest, nuzzling her and whining. Melana hugged his neck, burying her face into his fur. He smelled like home, like the earthy forest. Falon comforted her with images of the grand oaks, the sound of streams, the warmth of stone.   
  
The cabin door creaked open, and Melana looked up to see Varric in the doorway, a grin on his face. "About time you woke up!" He strode over to her, patting Falon fondly as he reached them, "Cassandra was losing her mind with impatience," He chuckled at the surprise on her face, "She'll never admit it, but she was really worried about you..." his expression softened, "we all were." Melana smiled slightly, glad for his warmth. The memory of the last time she awoke flashed through her mind,  _this is_ _definitely preferable to a dungeon._ "Cassandra will want to hear the good news. Why don't you take a moment to get cleaned up and meet her at the Chantry? Your clothes are over there," he said, gesturing to a dresser across the room.  "Cassandra had them washed for you. Glad to see you awake, Sparky." The dwarf turned to leave, closing the door quietly behind them.   
  
Melana eased herself out of bed, her body protesting with each movement. Falon returned to his position on the floor, laying with his head on his paws, watching her. His da'assan was was strong, and he knew she would accept no help from him. It pained him to see her stiff gait as she moved. A top the dresser was a bowl of clean water, a small towel, and a small pile of folded clothes. Melana splashed her face with the water, the cool water clearing the last of sleep from her eyes. She pulled off her tunic, dipped the towel in the water, and and began rubbing down as best she could. Her body was littered with black bruises, and she was amazed at her survival. A particularly large bruise graced her side, and she remembered the blow a wraith had landed. She had not felt it then, the fear blinding her to pain.  ** _You are lucky to live, da'assan. If they had not brought you back here..._**  Melana could feel the pain he felt at the thought of losing her. "I did live, Falon. Give no more thought to the matter," she said the words gently. She reached for the first piece of clothing, noticing a note on top.  
  
 **Some of your clothing was irreparably damaged, so I replaced it as best I could. -Cassandra**  
  
The note was scrawled with a heavy hand, and Melana chuckled at the thought of the fearsome warrior holding a quill. Setting the card aside, Melana sorted through the pile of clothes. Most of it she had never seen before, but she was pleased to find a two items of her own. She slid into a familiar pair of dark phoenix leather breeches, their snug fit comforting. The other item was also phoenix leather, her hooded vest-cloak. Sifting through the remaining clothing, she found a grey tunic with half sleeves. She pulled it over her head, pleased by the soft texture. It hung loose on her, almost at her knees, and she wondered if it had belonged to Cassandra herself. Melana pulled on the cloak, fastening the buckles down her side. The vest covered her down to herhips in the front, and its coat tails hung almost to her ankles behind her. Falon padded over to her, dropping a pair of boots at her feet. She slid them on, and patted his head, "Ready to face the music?" She took a deep breathe, and walked toward the door, Falon by her side.   
  
As she walked outside into the bright sun, she was startled by the soldiers standing outside the cabins to either side of the one she stepped out of. The stood at attention, their right hands held to their chests. She passed them nervously, but their gaze held no malice. They appeared almost...  _reverent._  Looking up at the sky, her chest tightened. The Breach was still there.  **It is safe,** Falon murmured to her,  **the wolf-father told me so.**   _Wolf-father? Fen'Harel?_  She tried to question him, but he would say no more than that. As she walked through the small town, all the people she passed stopped to stand the way the soldiers had, fists raised to their hearts. She reached the Chantry and shivered, the large stone building reminding her of the dungeon it held in its depths. She entered through the large wooden doors, unsettled by the silence of the town behind her. As she walked down the main hall the sounds of an argument echoed off the walls. One of the voices was Cassandra's, the other was a man's voice Melana did not recognize. She approached the room the argument came from, and timidly, she pushed open the door. Two guards were standing on either side of the room as she entered. Cassandra and a man stood on either side of a large table, maps strewn across its top.  
  
"Chain her! I want her prepped for transport to Val Royeux for trial," the man in Chantry clothes pointed at Melana. Falon growled, and the man's eyes widened.  
  
"Disregard that, and leave us," ordered Cassandra. The guards nodded in acknowledgement, then left the room, closing the door behind them. The man glared at Cassandra, flustered.  
  
"You go too far Seeker. She is wanted a wanted fugitive, and must stand trial." Cassandra sighed, clearly seeing the man as an unwanted pest,   
  
"Chancellor Roderick..." she started,   
  
"You... still believe I'm responsible?" interrupted Melana, "I did everything I could to close the Breach, and it almost killed me!"  
  
"And yet you still live," sneered the cleric, "you expect me to believe that your survival, the mark on your hand, what? Coincidence?"   
  
"Providence," Cassandra said firmly. "There is a reason the people are calling her the Herald of Andraste, Chancellor. I believe she is innocent, that she was sent to us in our time of need." Melana was surprised by her conviction, and confused by the 'Herald' statement.  
  
"And lets not forget we still have no idea  _who_  was behind the Breach," a voice from behind Cassandra said. The redheaded scout, Liliana, approached them, "we have enemies unknown to us, possibly from within the Order itself." She said it pointedly, her eyes on the cleric.  
  
" _I_  am a suspect?!"  
  
" _You_ , and many others," she responded.   
  
Cassandra slammed a book down onto the map table, pointing at it aggressively, "You know what this is, Chancellor. It is a writ from the Devine, granting us the authority to act.Her order? Rebuild the Inquisition of old." She stalked toward the Chancellor, her voice strong and determined, "We will close the Breach, find those responsible, and restore order to Thedas, with or without  _you."_ The chancellor scoffed and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Cassandra exhaled loudly, shaking her head and turning back around to face Liliana and Melana. They stood quietly for a few moments."I am glad to see you are awake," she said, breaking the silence,"The Breach may still be in the sky, but it has stopped expanding, and for that we owe you a great debt."  
  
"Word of your heroism has spread," commented Liliana, "people are calling you the Herald of Andraste."  
  
"How am  _I_  Andraste's herald?" asked Melana.   
  
"They heard the rumors of the woman behind you in the rift. They are saying it was Andraste herself, sent by the Maker to save you." Melana frowned, the concept of divine intervention just complicated the issue, and her head was already spinning. She leaned heavily into Falon's side, fatigue already setting in from the short walk to the Chantry. Cassandra noticed the small movement,    
  
"These are all things we can sort out in the next few days. In the mean time you need to rest. Would you like me to help you back to your quarters?" the offer was made in kindness, but Melana shook her head,   
  
"I can make it back fine, thank you." She started to leave, then stopped, turning back to smile at Cassandra, "Thank you for the clothes." The Seeker nodded, returning a small smile.  
  
****   
  
As Melana walked toward the small cabin people kept stopping her to thank her, one woman even asking if she would chant a blessing over her baby. She had politely declined the request, her anxiety raising with each person that spoke to her. Her entire body protested with each step, and Falon whined with concern. As weak as she was, she could not keep her emotions from him.  _ **Da'assan, let me carry you.**_  Before she could protest, he grabbed the back of her jacket with his teeth and set her onto his back. Sighing, she surrendered, hugging his sides and snuggling into his thick fur. Even dirty, it was softer than silk. She frowned,  _Falon, you haven't been taking care of yourself._  Normally he bathed when she did, keeping his fur a brilliant white. He chuckled, a throaty sort of bark, she could feel it rumbling in his chest.  _ **No time for bathing.**_  As they reached the small cabin, Falon nudged the door open, his large body barely clearing the frame. He deposited her onto the bed, and turned to settle at the foot of it.  _Falon, wait._ He turned his head to look at her,  _Why don't you go wash up at the lake down there? Stretch your legs, go hunting? I need to rest, but there is no reason for you to be cooped up now that I'm okay._ Falon paused, and she could feel how apprehensive he felt about leaving her alone. But she could also feel how badly he yearned to run, he  _hated_  inaction.  __ **Very well, da'assan. If you need me, just shout.**  Melana nodded, and watched Falon bound out of the cabin, eagerness in his step.       
  
  
  
***I like the idea of Cassandra being overly protective. Varric in the game already presents himself as very caring and big-brotherly, but Cassandra does too, in a less noticeable way. So it's fairly true to canon. And the Cullen POV in this chapter was probably super bad, so I apologize. Parts of this chapter I really struggled to write, so I started and stopped a lot. Love you guys, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your predictions as I go, so feel free to comment below! Now, on to the next chapterrrrr!!!!***


	4. Dream of Me

Solas had been pacing by the alchemist's cabin when Melana and Falon exited the Chantry. He saw the villagers rush up to her, fawning over her.  _Fools,_  he thought disdainfully.  _They know nothing of her, nothing of the Breach, so they assume it all to be divine will._  He was a little surprised at how angry it all made him. Normally the naivety of the human race amused him, but in light of recent events he found himself infuriated by them. He watched as Melana shook her head to an elderly woman, her long black hair glimmering in the sunlight. Her refusal must have been polite, because the older woman curtsied slightly and let the elf pass. Melana seemed to wobble ever so slightly, and then her Fen'ethera lifted her to it's back. She was a sliver of black and violet, lost in a sea of white. They were headed toward her cabin, and Solas felt a need to go see her, to  _know_  her. They had spoken little on the way to the Breach, but she had revealed next to nothing about herself. He had a theory about her, and the possibility had him yearning for her company. Determined, he set out toward her cabin.  
  
As he neared the small building, the Fen'ethera bounded out of the door, nearly running over Solas. He chuckled as watched the mass of white fur run past him and out Haven's gate. Solas waited a few moments before approaching the door and knocking quietly. "Come in," came a soft voice from inside. He stepped inside, closing the door with a quiet  _click_  behind him. Melana was sitting on the bed, struggling to tug off a boot. The other lay discarded on the floor. She huffed with frustration, and  Solas couldn't help but chuckle. Melana looked up at Solas, and her face flushed red. "I... uh..." she shrugged helplessly, then stuck her foot out toward him, "help?" Solas nodded, and walked over to her. He lifted her leg gently, and slid off the boot, dropping it next to the other on the floor. As he let go of her leg, she smiled warmly at him and fell back onto the bed. She hit the red blankets with a soft  _whoomph_. Her legs dangled over the side of the bed, her small feet kicking back and forth. Solas stood above her, unsure of what to do. "You know," she whispered, "You're the only one here who hasn't tried to kill me, worship me, or interrogate me..." She stared up at the ceiling as she spoke, too nervous to look at him, "thank you for that." She sat up on her elbows to look at him, and Solas's heart twinged with pain,  _violet eyes, why did she have to have_ those _eyes?_  Melana stared at him for a moment, analyzing him. He stood still, waiting.   
  
She broke into a grin, "Well,  _Solas,_  do you plan on standing there like a limp fish all day?" She said his named with a heavy Elvish accent, making his heart flutter, and he internally cursed himself.  _It isn't her, stop it._  He smiled slightly at her,   
  
"Why no, I actually came to see if you felt up to a little conversation?" Melana sat back up, stretching her arms. She stood up, and her proximity made Solas's skin tingle. He wanted to reach out to her, to tangle his fingers in her glossy black hair, to... to... His thoughts raced with a frenzy he had not anticipated. She turned to straighten the disheveled covers on the bed, bending over it to tuck them on either side. He could not help but stare. Seeing her now, without her armor and in the tight leathers of a Dalish, he could see every curve of her. His eyes traced from her neck, to the small of her back, and down. She had a fuller figure than most elves, her lithe shape gracefully accented with wider hips and larger bosom. Solas found his mind once again wandering toward his primal side. She felt too familiar, and it tortured him. As she finished with making the bed, she sat back down, now with her back against the wall and her legs crossed. She patted the bed next to her expectantly, and his eyes widened,   
  
"Well come on, you wanted to talk, right? I'm too tired to stand, and it would be odd if you stood and I sat, so you will have to sit." She stated it simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Solas nodded slightly, then sat at the end of the bed, opposite her. She giggled at his stiff posture. "I guess that is as good as I'm going to get from you, huh? Well, what  so did you want to talk about?" She felt odd, talking so freely, even after everything.  
  
"Well," Solas began, "truthfully, I would like to know more about you. There is so much unique about you, and I know nothing more than your name, and even that came from your companion." He spoke softly, his pale blue eyes connecting with her violet.   
  
"What would you like to know?"  
  
****  
  
They sat talking for some time, and Melana opened up to Solas bit by bit. She was soothed by his calm presence, and his curiosity bore no malice. His questions were quiet and intelligent, and he answered her questions in turn. After admitting her past to him, the lack of memory, he had seemed genuinely concerned. She felt a connection with the elf, and it warmed her. Even in the clan she had felt alienated, the others treating her with an odd mix of reverence and fear. Solas, however, seemed fascinated by her, completely unafraid. Her fluent Elvish astounded him, and his eagerness made her smile. His fascination made her feel special, instead of the cursed she normally felt.  
  
"That phrase you said during the battle," he said, "what was that?" She seemed surprised by the question, she had never given it much thought,  
  
"I think it's a prayer of sorts," she mused, tapping her chin, "like the Chant of Light, only for an Elvhen god." She shrugged, frowning, "A memory of a lost life." She let her hands drop into her lap, "I wish I knew..."   
  
Without thinking, Solas reached over to take one of her hands. She looked up at him, violet eyes eyes wide. He squeezed her hand gently, smiling warmly at her, "You know, I've heard a similar phrase before... in the Fade."  She all but lunged closer to him, her eyes pleading,   
  
"Where?!" Her face was just inches from his, and he became painfully aware of how soft her lips looked.   
  
"I- I was sleeping a temple ruin," he tripped over his words, distracted by the feeling of her hand still in his, "I saw the last stand of a group of elves, they were desperate to defend the temple from invading Tevinters. They chanted as they fought..." he trailed off, her closeness making it hard for him to think. Melana grabbed his other hand, squeezing both.   
  
"Solas, would you take me there?  _Please?_ " His whole body burned from the subtle contact, and he nodded, unable to speak. Melana squealed with joy, and dropped Solas's hands, grabbing him in a hug. The force of the embrace nearly knocked him off the bed, "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! You don't know what this means to me!" Her words were muffled into his shoulder, and her soft black hair tickled his chin. He couldn't move. Didn't  _want_ to. She pulled back slowly, her face bright red, "Sorry, I- I..." He chuckled, and smiled warmly,   
  
"I would be delighted to help you recover your past, da'len." He looked out the window, the sky was tinted orange and red, "It seems I have taken up more of your time than expected..." Melana followed his gaze, surprised by the setting sun, "I shall take my leave, Lady Lavellan." He stood, nodding courteously, "Dream well." And with that he left her cabin.   
  
Melana watched Solas leave, her face still burning with embarrassment. She had  _hugged_  him. A man she barely knew. She grabbed a nearby pillow and buried her face in it.  _ **Da'assan?**_  Falon reached out to her through the Fade, his voice concerned.  _I'm okay Falon, just mortified._  She felt his presence grow closer, and a few minutes later he was standing at her beside, nudging her side.  _ **Da'assannnn.**_  He nudged her again, and she groaned, her face still in the pillow.  _ **Da'assan! What did he do?**_  Melana chuckled despite herself,  _he didn't do anything... in fact, he offered to help me find out our past._  She looked up from the pillow, Falon had tensed, his haunches bristled. "Falon, what's wrong?" she spoke the words aloud, reaching out to pet him.  _ **Do you... wish to make him your mate, da'assan?**_  She burst out laughing, "What?! No, Falon!" she continued to chuckle, "I just met him. Sure, I enjoy his company, but..." she trailed off, shrugging. Falon was still doubtful, his aura radiated it.  _ **But he is Elvhen too, da'assan. And you have not yet chosen a mate.**_ Melana shook her head, "What brought this on, Falon?" The fen'ethera shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing. The sat in silence for a few moments, Melana bewildered by Falon's behavior.   
  
Yawning, she leaned over to kiss the top of Falon's head. "I don't need a mate, Falon. You are all the family I need." She gave him a quick hug, and sank back into the bed, pulling the heavy red blankets over her. Falon nuzzled her gently before taking his post at the end of the bed. Sleep found her quickly, and she let it take her with no resistance.   
  
****  
  
Melana slept dreamlessly that night, and awoke at just as the sun rose. She stretched with a contented sigh, feeling almost whole again. She pulled on her boots and exchanged the thin grey shirt she wore for a heavy wool one. She left her leather cloak on the dresser, enjoying the loose, free feeling of Cassandra's larger clothes.  She combed her wavy hair quickly with her fingers, leaving it to hang  down her back. She exited the cabin, with Falon at her side. The sky was a dim lavender, the Breach casting a green hue over the snow. The village was mostly empty at the early hour, and Melana was relieved to be left alone. Falon led her to the small tavern, where he had smelled a cooking hearth the days before. He left her at the door, opting instead for a run in the woods. The human buildings made him uncomfortable, and he felt no danger from the people here, so he felt it was safe enough to leave her alone. Melana watched him run off before opening the door, the smell of eggs and cooked meats greeting her as she stepped in. The small tavern had a bar, and various wooden tables set up, some of which already were filling up with soldiers eager for a morning meal.   
  
Her stomach growled as she approached the bar, grabbing an empty stool next to a blonde soldier. She waved down the bar tender, and asked for the largest plate she served. The curvy brunette nodded, then disappeared into the back kitchen. Melana couldn't help but smile at the small look of disdain the woman had given her. Without Falon at her side, she was just another elf. She pulled her left hand into the long sleeve of her shirt, hiding the mark that glowed there. She took a moment to look around her, and then at the man next to her. His armor was different from the others, and she wondered if he was a soldier of rank. A dark helm of fur topped his shoulder,  _bear_ , she guessed. His chest plate was swathed a rich red fabric, it hung loosely over the shiny steel. The pauldrons on his shoulders shone with the same vibrance,  _he must take great care of his armor,_ she mused. The man caught her staring from the corner of his eye, and started to turn to her. She looked away, staring down at the battered wood of the bar, her long hair hiding her face.   
  
He looked over at her for a moment, then opened his mouth to say something. The bartender cut in before he could say anything, delivering a heaping plate of eggs, meat, and bread. She introduced herself as Flyssa, and asked if Melana needed anything else. "Just water," she replied quietly, already reaching for a slice of bread. With a curt nod the woman disappeared once again. Melana ate quickly, the simple meal was bland, but still satisfying. The soldier beside her also received a plate, half the size of hers. He glanced over at her a few times as they ate, as if he was trying to figure out something. Once again she silently thanked Falon for his dislike of the indoors. She finished off the large plate just before the soldier finished his, and she couldn't help but feel a little smug. Flyssa came and refilled her cup several times, Melana drinking each cup just moments after she filled it. She stretched happily, the large meal refueling her normal vigor.  _I feel like me again,_  she thought happily. She got up, still stretching as she went, and exited the tavern. The chilly air swept through her hair, making her miss the gentle warm breezes of the forest.   
  
"Excuse me, miss!" a voice called out behind her, and the jingle of armor followed. She looked over her shoulder to see the blonde soldier fast approaching. She paused, and allowed him to catch up to her.   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"Are you...?" he trailed off, looking down toward her hand. Sighing, she lifted it up, showing him the green that glowed there. The man smiled, a small scar above his lip crinkling, "It's good to see you up and about." Melana shrugged, shifting on either foot, "I am Commander Cullen, leader of the forces here in Haven," He held out a gloved hand, the other rested easily on the pommel of his sword.   
  
"Melana, of clan Lavellan," she replied, taking his hand, unsure. He chuckled, giving it a light shake, then released her hand,   
  
"So I  _wasn't_  hallucinating when your companion spoke." He rubbed the back of his neck, and Melana realized he looked almost...  _embarrassed?_  
  
"You can hear him? Are you a mage?" She frowned slightly, eyeing the sword on his hip.  
  
"Maker, no! I was a templar before Cassandra recruited me for the Inquisition." Seeing her continued confusion, he shook his head, "As a Dalish, you probably didn't meet many templars. They are, or at least  _were_ , soldiers of the Chantry, protecting the mage Circles, and destroying any abominations or demons that occurred in their Circle. Templars take regular doses of lyrium, and it gives us the ability to inhibit and detect magic." He made a face at the mention of lyrium, but Melana couldn't discern its meaning. She nodded slowly,   
  
"So when the Mages rebelled, the templars followed?" Cullen frowned some,   
  
"In a manner of speaking. Many felt it was their duty to hunt down the rebel mages, and left their posts in order to do so." He said the words disapprovingly, and Melana raised an eyebrow in response,   
  
"Do  _you_  have a problem with mages, Commander?"  He seemed a little surprised by her defensive tone,  
  
"Me? I- I haven't always viewed mages in the kindest light, I admit. But recent events have showed me that anyone is capable of violence." Melana stared at him for a moment, searching his eyes for truth. They were a honeyed gold,  _like Falon's, only softer._  They hid no emotion, his eyes showing his true feelings, even if his face did not.  _He wears his heart on his sleeve_ , she realized. He seemed genuinely apologetic for  his past prejudice, and his honesty surprised her. She smiled at him,   
  
"I won't say mages can't be scary, fire and hail summoned with thought? The  _terror_!" she said the words lightly, teasing. He let out a sigh of relief, smiling in return.   
  
"I forget that you yourself are a mage," he admitted, "Your use of a bow, instead of a staff, is something I have never seen. Is that a form of Dalish magic?" Melana paused, unsure of how to respond. In truth, not even her Keeper had ever seen such magic, but she did not wish for people to find more odd about her.   
  
"Yes, though few Dalish learn it. In a clan, more practical magic is taught, like healing." The Commander nodded, intrigued,  
  
"I must admit, I know very little of the Dalish. We had a few elven mages in my Circle, but none Dalish." Melana smiled mischievously,   
  
"Well if you believe the stories, we are all blood mages, running wild in the forests, bewitching children!" she laughed, "Oh! And the old Chantry women will whisper of the  _orgies_ , the constant  _nudity_!" chuckling, Melana shook her head, "I'm afraid they are all sorely mistaken, we live fairly mundane lives, hunting and trading. We simply wish to live our lives away from the reaches of  _shemlen_." Cullen frowned,  
  
"Shemlen?" Melana smiled at his botched pronunciation,  
  
"Sorry, it's an Elvish term for humans. It translates roughly to 'quickling'. When elves were still immortal, humans' lived a short life by comparison..." she shrugged. Cullen nodded,   
  
"I see... It must be hard to have such a grand history lost. Ferelden kings may moan and groan of exploits past, but that loss is nothing compared to what your people have suffered..." he trailed off, deep in thought. Melana was shocked by his sincerity and understanding. Most of the humans she had met ridiculed the struggle of the People, taunted her and her clan for their cling to the past.   
  
"Without our heritage, we have nothing," she whispered softly, looking down at her marked hand. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed,   
  
"I'm sorry, I stopped you to introduce myself, and look where we ended up!" His hands returned to the pommel of his sword, and he straightened up, nodding respectfully to her, "It was nice to meet you, Lady Lavellan. As Commander of the Inquisitions forces, I thank you for your assistance with the Breach. If you ever need anything, just let me know." He smiled down at her, and she felt her heart flutter,  _he is indeed charming... for a human._  She returned a timid smile, and nodded back. He walked past her, toward Haven's gates. She watched him go, admiring the way he carried himself.  _He is a man sure of himself, of his prowess..._ and yet... he had been  _kind._  He had shown respect for her culture, and even more, for her as a  person.  _Must be the whole 'saving the world' thing_ , she thought.  _Had to be._  
  
****  
  
As Cullen walked away, his stomach was fluttering, his hands clammy. He felt like a school boy, and the thought embarrassed him. He hoped she had not noticed how she affected him. His reaction to her presence baffled him. The way she smiled and laughed, the slight lilt as she spoke, her melodic voice... her company had been intoxicating. It took every once of will he had to leave. The way she spoke captivated him, and he would have happily talked with her all day. He shook his head, trying to clear her from his mind, he had work to do, soldiers to train, and he could not let his fancy distract him. Did he fancy her? He neared the training ground, the ringing of swords and shields in the air. It was a comfort. He saw Cassandra, attacking a dummy, her blade nearly cleaving it in two. He smirked as he approached,   
  
"Care to test your mettle against something a little stronger?" He drew his sword as he approached, rolling it in his hand. She smirked, and turned to face him,   
  
"Are you sure that  _you_  can take  _me_  on, Commander?" she took a swipe at him, and he deflected it, stepping closer, his stance relaxed. Their swords met again, harder this time. He chuckled,   
  
"Loser takes a plunge in the lake?"   
  
"You're on."  
  
****  
  
Cassandra had won in the end, knocking Cullen off his feet with flourish. She stood over him, sword to his chest, both off them breathless. He had laughed, dropping his sword and raising his hands, "I surrender, Lady Seeker." She smirked, then sheathed her sword and held her hand out to him. He took it, and pulled himself to his feet. "Remind me never to get on your bad side." He stretched, and retrieved his sword. Cassandra laughed,   
  
"I doubt you'll need that, Commander. You owe me a swim." He groaned, "You are the one who challenged  _me,_  remember?" He laughed, rubbing  the back of his neck,   
  
"Yes, but I had no idea you would actually  _win._ "  
  
"What's this about a swim?" a familiar voice chimed behind them. Cullen spun around to see Melana and her fox-beast Falon. "I came to find Cassandra, but waited for the two of you to finish your little duel." Cassandra chuckled at his side,   
  
"Commander Cullen here challenged me to a sparing match, loser has to jump in the lake." Melana's eyes widened,   
  
"The  _frozen_  lake?"   
  
"The very one. And since I won..." she smirked, "He'll be doing the swimming." Melana frowned, looking at Cullen with a concern that make his heart melt,   
  
"Isn't that a little extreme?" she asked, and Cullen shrugged,   
  
"It was my wager, and I lost." He begain to unclasp his spaulders, then his breastplate. He shrugged off the heavy armor, then draped it over a nearby dummy. He then removed his sword belt, and handed it to Cassandra. Next were the steel greaves on his legs, which joined his armor on the dummy. All he wore now was a thin white shirt, black trousers, and boots. The cool mountain air felt good against his skin. "Let's get this over with." He began to walk out past the training ground, toward the docks just beyond.   
  
****  
  
Melana couldn't help but stare at the Commander. The thin white shirt he wore beneath his armor clung to his body, sweaty from the scrimmage with Cassandra. She had watched the fight, his skill with a blade had impressed her, and seeing him now, she was even more impressed. Every contour of his upper body was revealed, and he was indeed in peak physical shape.  _He looks almost perfect..._  She thought, and she flushed at the thought. Falon barked a laugh, amused with her embarrassment. She smacked his side,  _hush you_. The group had reached the docks, and the Commander groaned, looking down at the slush below. Laughing, Cassandra gave him a hard shove, and the Commander toppled off the dock, into the water below. Melana cried out, running to the edge of the dock, searching the water below. Falon was tense behind her, feeling her concern. The water sloshed below, and the Commander's blonde hair bobbed up out of the water,   
  
"Maker's breathe, Cassandra! That was uncalled for!" He swam over to nearby ladder, climbing up to them. A few rungs from the top, his hand slipped, and he began to fall backwards. Falon lunged forward, grabbing him by the shirt, and drug him up onto the dock. The Commander looked up at Falon gratefully, "Thank you." Falon yipped in response, and backed up to give him enough space to stand up. Still chuckling, Cassandra smacked him on the back,   
  
"Well met Commander." He smiled ruefully at her,   
  
"Yes that is all fine and good, but I should probably dry off. Preferably  _before_  I catch my death of cold." He was already shivering, and Melana frowned with worry.   
  
"Why don't we head to my cabin? It is the closest?" The Commander shook his head,   
  
"No, no, I can make it to my  tent just fine," He continued to shiver, his lips turning blue.  _Falon? **As you wish, da'assan.**_  Falon picked up the Commander once again, and bounded off toward Haven. As the sounds of his protest faded out of ear shot, Cassandra looked over to Melana, raising a brow,   
  
"Did you tell him to do that?"   
  
"Well I wasn't going to let him  _freeze_!" she replied defensively. Cassandra smiled,   
  
"No, that wouldn't do at all. Would you mind checking on him? I need to collect his armor, and make sure his lieutenants aren't  _completely_  lost without him. I'll catch up soon." Melana nodded, and the two parted ways.  
  
****  
  
Cullen huffed with frustration after Falon deposited him in front of Melana's fireplace. His pride was greatly wounded, and he heard the fox-beast make a coughing sound behind him, and Cullen  _swore_  it was laughing. His whole body was shivering, and after adding a few logs, he stood in front of the fire. Several minutes later, he heard the door open, and soft footsteps approaching. He turned his head to see Melana approaching, concern plain on her face. Even as cold as he was, her concern warmed his heart. She shook her head in disbelief,   
  
"Honestly I cannot believe the two of you!" he smiled, and shrugged as best he could between shivers. She came up next to him, and frowned at his wet clothes, "Those will have to go."   
  
"E-excuse me?" he stammered, taking a step back. She threw her hands in the air with exacerbation,   
  
"I am  _not_  going to let you stay in those clothes! The fire will do no good if you stay soaking wet!" He shook his head,   
  
"I appreciate your concern, Lady Lavellan, but I will heat up here for a few moments, and then return to my own quarters to change." She frowned, and he couldn't help but think how endearing she looked,   
  
"A  _tent_?! Absolutely not. You are going nowhere. Falon can go get a new set of clothes for you," Falon barked in response, and left the cabin, presumably to do just that. "And please Commander, call me Melana." She took a step closer, and she now stood only inches from him. He did not retreat this time,   
  
"Lady Lav- I mean, Melana, I am  _fine_." She looked up at him, her violet eyes flashing with frustration, and her bottom lip stuck out defiantly. Without another word, she reached for his shirt, and began unbuttoning it. He froze, surprised by her forwardness. She made quick work of it, and opened it with a quick jerk, bearing his chest. She paused, a slight gasp escaping her lips. She stared at scars slashed across his chest, and he winced internally.  _She must think them disgusting,_  he thought harshly. To his surprise, she reached out timidly, and traced them with her fingers. He shivered, but from the cold or her touch, he could not tell. Her hand lingered for a moment, and the expression on her face looked pained. She finished removing his shirt quickly, then turned, shirt in hand, and draped it over the mantle of the fireplace to dry. Cullen shivered again, and thought of how warm her hands had been, how saddened her eyes looked.  
  
Melana focused on straightening the Commander's shirt on the mantle. She had her backed turned to him, hiding her face, which she knew must be flushed bright red. What had come over her, she could not fathom.  _I just met this man, and now I'm removing his clothes, touching his bare chest?_  The Dalish were indeed more liberal about nudity, but Melana knew that the Chantry frowned on such things. Especially between men and women. Melana herself had always been more shy than her clan mates, so her actions in the past few days stunned her.  _Near death must embolden you_ , she thought. Behind her, the Commander cleared his throat,   
  
"I would prefer to keep my pants, if you don't mind" She couldn't resist laughing at the embarrassed, yet polite tone in his voice.,  
  
"Oh?" she said, turning to face him, "Afraid I might try involving you in something  _scandalous_?" she teased. He flushed red,   
  
"Of course not! I-"   
  
"Commander,  _relax_. Falon will be back any moment with some dry clothes. In the mean time, warm up." She gestured to the fire place. "I'll find something for you to dry off with." The Commander rubbed the back of his neck,  _a nervous habit_ , Melana guessed. She paused, her eyes returning to the claw-like scars that stretched from his shoulder almost to his hip. "May I ask...?" He followed her gaze, and grimaced,   
  
"A bleak reminder of a demon I once encountered. I would prefer not to talk about it, if you don't mind." His voice was soft, and Melana could hear the pain he tried to conceal. She nodded, then busied herself in search of a towel.   
  
****  
  
Falon had returned with a change of clothes, and Cassandra in tow minutes later. Cullen had taken the clothes and his armor gratefully, and the women left the cabin to let him change. Cassandra had raised a brow at his shirtless state, but had said nothing. The familiar weight of his armor was comforting as he exited the cabin, a literal barrier between him and the world. He thanked Melana for her help, and took his leave. 


	5. Progress of the Past

The next few days flew by  in a flurry of confusion.  
  
Cassandra's declaration of the formation of the Inquisition sent into motion an unstoppable tide of events. The Chantry declared the Inquisition, and namely, the 'Herald of Andraste', heretics. Melana was still a wanted criminal in Val Royeaux, seat of the Chantry, but with the remaining clerics still arguing over who to elect as the next Devine, they took no action against her. Cassandra offered her a choice. She could join the Inquisition, and use the rumors of her being the Herald of Andraste, and her mark, to their advantage, while being protected from the Chantry,  _or_  she could leave and take her own chances. Melana felt that being the only one able to close the rifts gave her the responsibility to finish what she started. With a firm handshake, she finalized her joining of the Inquisition.   
  
With her being marked as she was, Cassandra asked her to join the head's of the Inquisition in their meetings in the War Room, the very room where Cassandra had declared the Inquisition to Chancellor Roderick. The council had five members, including herself. Cassandra, Liliana, Commander Cullen, and one woman Melana had not met before, Josephine. She was a gold skinned Orlaisian, with rich chestnut hair and perfect manners. Each had a specific duty. Cassandra worked as the un-official leader, Liliana as Spymaster, Josephine as Ambassador, and Cullen as Commander.  Melana felt out of place in the room full of lofty titles, but Cassandra insisted that being the Herald of the people gave her more power than anyone else in the room. The idea made Melana even more uneasy.  
  
After much debate about the Inquisition's standing, the council decided on a plan. As the Inquisition stood, they did not have enough influence to approach Val Royeaux, and lacked the forces to approach the rebel mages or Templars for help. They came to a consensus that the best way to expand the reaches of the Inquisition would be to send Melana, along with Cassandra, Solas, and Varric, to the nearby Hinterlands, to interact with the people, and gain resources for the Inquisition. When she asked why they wanted her, they all smiled at her, like she was a naive child. 'You're the Herald', was always the response.  
  
****  
  
After the fifth War Room meeting she'd attended that week, Melana's head was throbbing. There was so much to take in, so much that now she was responsible for. They were scheduled to leave for the Hinterlands in the morning, to help refuges, get horses for the Inquisition, and in general, stabilize the area. Before the Conclave, Melana had never even left the Free Marches, and now she was on a mission to calm all of  _Thedas_? It was like tumbling down a fox hole with no bottom, just continuous twists and turns. She decided to see Varric, who normally stayed near the tavern in the middle of Haven. He had a way of putting her at ease, making her laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Falon spent most of his time in the woods near Haven lately, away from all the people. Melana missed his presence at her side, and envied him the ability to run free in the wild. She neared a bonfire, and saw Varric standing next to it, rubbing his chin as if lost in thought.  
  
"Varric!" he looked up over the fire, and waved as she jogged up to him, "Care for a drink?" He grinned,   
  
"Are you seriously asking?" they walked to the tavern, and took a table in the back corner. The spot was becoming their defacto seating, and the small habit was comforting for Melana. They ordered their pints, and Varric leaned back in his chair, eyeing Melana with concern,   
  
"So now that Cassandra is out of earshot, you holding up alright? I mean you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful... Most people would have spread that out over more than a few days." She propped her elbows on the table, and rubbed her temples,   
  
"Honestly, I have no idea what's happening anymore." Varric smiled sympathetically,   
  
"That makes two of us. For days we were staring up at the Breach, watching Maker-knows-what fall out of it. ' _Bad for morale'_  is a bit of an understatement. I still can't believe anyone was in there and lived." He shook his head, and took a long drink from his pint.   
  
"If it was that bad, why are you still here? Cassandra said you were free to go..." Melana was frowning,  _I know how badly I want to run away_...  
  
"Well I'd like to think I'm as selfish and irresponsible as the next guy, but this..." he frowned into his mead, then looked back up at her, "Thousands of people died on that mountain. I was almost one of them. And now there's a hole in the sky. Even I can't walk away and leave that to sort itself out." He sighed, "You might want to consider running at the first opportunity. I've written enough tragedies to recognize where this is going. Heroes are everywhere, I've seen that. But the giant hole in the sky? That's beyond heroes. We're going to need a miracle."  
  
"You really aren't helping Varric," Melana groaned, "I'd love to run away. Mythal's mercy, I just want to go home. I just want to go hunting with Falon, to pretend everything is fine, to- to-..." her voice cracked, and she clenched her eyes shut.  _Don't cry, not here_. She felt a hand on her arm, and she looked up at Varric, who now stood next to her.   
  
"Hey," he said softly, "You're the  _Herald of Andraste_ , the baddest elf in history. And you have Falon, the baddest fox-beast-thing ever! What's a little hole in the sky to  _you_?" She smiled weakly, "And, not to mention, you have Varric Tethrys on your side. No way you can lose." They both chuckled,   
  
"Thank you... But you're still in trouble for being a jerk in the first place."  
  
"Ahhh, I can never win, eh?" They both laughed, and Varric sat back down, "To miracles," he said, raising his mug.  
  
"To miracles." They clanked their mugs, and drank.  
  
****  
  
After several drinks with Varric, and having had more than one embarrassing story coaxed from her, Melana left the tavern feeling much better. The mead warmed her belly, and loosened her muscles. She felt the urge to run, to fight. It had been almost two weeks since she had last used magic, hunted, or done any of the things her body was so accustomed to doing. She hadn't realized how tense she was, like an caged bear. The rest had been necessary, she knew, but now she was completely healed, and itching to stretch her eager muscles. She headed down toward the training grounds.   
  
As she neared the crowd of sparring soldiers, she spotted Commander Cullen, who leaned over a small table, absorbed in whatever document laid there. They hadn't spoken much since the lake incident, only the briefest of words exchanged in the War Room. She felt like he was avoiding her, and couldn't figure out why. She suspected it had something to do with the scars she had asked about, and she wanted to apologize for her forwardness. As she approached him, one of Liliana's scouts came up to him, report in hand,   
  
"Ser, a list of the recruits, as requested." the Commander looked up to take the report, and saw Melana approaching. He dismissed the scout and glanced over the paper before setting it down on the table.   
  
"Commander Cullen, a word?" Melana asked, gesturing away from the training soldiers, toward the blacksmith and stables,   
  
"Uh- Yes, of course." His face was flushed, and Melana wondered if the War Room councel had been as stressful for him, as it had been for her. He stepped around the table, to her side, and she began to walk toward the blacksmith. Once they were out of earshot of the trainees, she stopped, and turned to him,   
  
"Commander, I wanted to apologize." His gold eyes widened in surprise,   
  
"Apologize? What ever for?" Melana tugged on a strand of her hair, and looked down at her feet. She was suddenly nervous,   
  
"For... well... I- I crossed a line after your wager with Cassandra, with having Falon carry you, and then your shirt and..." she sighed, "And I shouldn't have pried into your past, so I wanted to apologize if I made you uncomfortable, and I-"  
  
"Herald, Melana, please, stop." He held up his hand, and Melana looked up at him, unexpectedly pleased at his use of her name, "You have nothing to be sorry for. You reacted out of concern for my well being, and you may well have saved me from a nasty cold," he smiled down at her, and she felt her stomach flutter in response, "As for... the other things, you crossed no lines. Your conscience is clear." He was sincere, and Melana felt relieved,   
  
"Oh thank Mythal! I was so worried that I had upset you, and that you were avoiding me." she was borderline babbling now, and she silently cursed the mead she had drank,  
  
"Avoiding you?" he asked.  _Did he just sound guilty?_  
  
"Think nothing of it, Commander. I over-thought it. Thank you for setting me straight." she nodded curtly, and turned to leave, stomach full of butterflies.   
  
Cullen watched Melana leave, baffled by her behavior. He  _had_  been avoiding her, but hadn't expected her to notice. He had hoped by avoiding her, he could focus. He couldn't get her off his mind, and just being in the War Room with her drove him mad. His mind always returned to the moment she had touched his scars, the look in her eyes. He had tried to convince himself it had been pity, and nothing more, but he couldn't resist hoping that it was something more. And now, after her apologies, he was even more conflicted. She had truly seemed anxious about possibly wronging him. He shook his head,  _focus._  He had soldiers to train, an army to run. He returned to his station, planning to throw himself back into his work.  
   
****  
  
Melana found the Blacksmith to be a gruff, but likeable man. He was no-nonsense, and when she had first approached him about armor and weapons, he had jumped at the challenge. Earlier in the morning a runner had let her know that they were complete in time for her trip to the Hinterlands. After her talk with Cullen, she was glad to have something else to think about. The Commander's behavior was so odd, and it bothered her that she was so bothered about it.   
  
"Here they are, m'lady," said the smith, gesturing dramatically to a table behind him. A top it lay a bow, quiver, and pieces of leather armor.  Melana walked over and picked up the bow. It was a recurve bow, made of pale grey ironbark. It felt good in her hands, not too light, not too heavy. She pulled back on the drawstring, then released, smiling with satisfaction at the feeling. "Definitely an improvement from whatever dinky longbow they had you usin' before, eh?" she nodded in agreement, but remained focused on the craftsmanship of the bow. At closer examination, she saw the tiny enlayed jewels that peppered the wood. She ran her fingers across the wood,  _smooth_? "Ah, one of the Tranquil added those, a little boost fer your magic, she said. Also said to letcha know that there's a rune stone under the wrapping of the grip." Melana rolled the grip in her hand, and she could feel the power that hummed through the bow.   
  
"It's beautiful, thank you." The smith nodded proudly,   
  
"Some of my best work, there. The Lady Seeker told me to use the materials we had on ya, so I did just that. Rivals even Dalish craftsmanship, yea?" Melana smiled and nodded,   
  
"I daresay it just might." He grinned,   
  
"Now you're just flatterin' me, m'lady." He gestured to the quiver on the table, "Now, I know ya use your magic instead of real arrows, but these here are special," he carefully pulled one out, and held it out to her, "like the bow, the Tranquil made these special. They'll amp your power up by tenfold, if not more. " She set the bow down and took the arrow from him, and looked at it closely. Like the bow, tiny gems glittered in the wood. It was fletched with inky black feathers, and sported an obsidian glass tip. "Not for use indoors, or pretty much anything you don't want destroyed," he joked. She returned the arrow to the quiver, picked up the largest piece of armor next to it, the cuirass. It was made of dark grey halla leather, and looked like a heavier version of her vest-cloak. She pulled it on, and buckled it tight. A short tail coat hung behind her, stopping just above her knees, and a hood draped her shoulders. A pair of bracers, leather grieves, and sturdy calf-high boots remained on the table, all the same dark grey leather. She put them on, then strapped on the quiver. All that remained was a heavy leather harness, one fashioned to fit Falon so he could carry Melana's possessions while they were out in the field. After picking up the bow and harness, she smiled at the smith,   
  
"You truly are a master of your craft, ser Smith." He grinned,   
  
"Aye, aye, m'lady. Take care of that bow now, 'tis one of a kind." She nodded, waved goodbye, and left the smithy, heading for the woods. As soon as she was out of sight and in the cover of the trees, she took off running.  _FALONNN!!!_  She felt his presence nearby, and ran toward it, snow crunching underfoot. The familiar weight of a bow on her back, the wind whipping through her hair, weaving through trees and leaping over brambles...  _this_  was who she was. Not a herald of anything, just a huntress in a wood. Falon came up beside her, running in sync.  _Free._    
  
****  
  
Melana returned to Haven well after dusk, yawning happily as she approached the gates. They had spent the day exploring and tracking through the tall pines. She had been happy for the small release.  _Tomorrow, Falon. Tomorrow our new life truly begins. Our lives as members on the Inquisition... My life as the Herald of Andraste_... Falon whined, the gravity of her thoughts worried him.  _It's alright Falon. This mark on my hand... it means something. And I intend to find out what._    
  
****  
  
 ** _Frozen. Stuck. Hello?_**  
  
 _Melana knew she was in the Fade, but couldn't move. It was dark. Looking around, she caught glimpses of leaves, branches, a hint of moonlight. The scene kept shifting, changing. Distorted and hazy one moment, vibrant and clear the next. She could feel someone else near by, an intangible presence. She tried to reach out, to find them in the Fade, but something resisted her, kept her pinned in place. And then, it tugged, pulling her through the forest, flying backwards.  
  
She stood in the middle of a valley, military forces to her left and right. Tension hung the air, the silence before battle. Through the haze, she could see two banners, one side red, the other green. And both sides were... elven? The pulses of distortion slowed, and the scene became clear. _  
  
 _Two elven armies faced each other, each under a different banner. Silence hung in the air, anger, hate._  
  
 **"Stop! Please! This is madness!"**  A woman's voice called out in Elvish from behind a red banner, breaking free through the front lines. Melana gasped. It was  **her** , only not. The same black hair hung down her back, and the same violet eyes flashed with determination. It was Melana down to the last inch, save for one thing. This woman had a vibrant vallasin, golden tattoos scrolled across her face, under eyes, and down her neck.   
  
 **"Father, please! These are our own people! Why would you war like the shemlens you claim to hate?"** the not-Melana ran toward a tall elf, clad in golden robes. He stood at the front of the line, the leader.  **"You can stop this now, please Father."**  The elf drew his sword, and turned toward her. The sword glowed with an eerie blue light,   
  
 **"Melava, you would choose these traitors over your own family?"**  he prowled toward her,  **"I know not who you are, but you are no child of mine!"**  he swung the sword, just barely missing her.   
  
 **"Father, please..."**  he swung again, and caught her arm with the tip of the blade. Blood dripped from the gash as she retreated from him.   
  
 **"Hear me now, men!"**  the elf cried out, not stopping his advance, **"This women is no longer our kin, no longer the one you knew as Melava! She is a traitor, no better than those who stand across from you!"**  As he spoke, she continued to back away from him.  She had gained some distance, but lost her footing, and fell backwards. The man quickly was upon her, standing above her. She looked up at the man she had called father and let out a sob that echoed through the silent valley. He raised the sword high above his head, and swung. 


	6. Off to the Lands of Hinter

Falon awoke with a jerk, to the sound of soft sobs. His da'assan was  _crying_. He padded over to her bedside. She was curled into a tight ball, facing the wall. She radiated so much pain it was almost deafening. He nudged her back gently, whining. She lifted her head just enough to look at him, tears streaming down her face.  _ **Da'assan...?**_  She rolled over and pulled him closer, hugging his neck. She cried, shaking with grief.  _He killed her, Falon. He killed her._  She kept thinking it, over and over. Her sobs were muffled by his fur, her tears soaking down to his skin. Falon felt helpless, unable to soothe her in any way.  _He killed her, he killed her. How could he kill her, Falon? Why?_   _ **Killed who, da'assan?**_ She cried harder, her entire body shaking,  _me._  She didn't resist when he pulled her off the bed, tucking her safely against his side. Before their world changed, they would sleep side by side, and the change seemed to comfort her some. Her hitched breathes slowed, her desperate grip on his fur eased.  _It was me... but not me, Falon. I couldn't move, I couldn't save her..._ She nuzzled into his side, burying herself in his fur,  _at least I have you. It was just a dream..._  
  
Eventually she fell back asleep, nestled into Falon's side. He tucked his tails around her, shielding her from the world. He nuzzled her affectionately, and settled in. He lay there vigilantly, watching over her and keeping her from returning to the Fade as she slept.   
  
********  
  
Melana woke up to the tickle of fur on her face. She snuggled closer, reveling in Falon's warmth.  _ **Da'assan?**  "_Hm? What is it Falon?"  _ **It is almost time to leave...**_ She groaned, and rolled away from him. She cried out in surprise when her back met the cold wood of the floor.  _Why am I...?_  Then she remembered the dream, and hazily, Falon comforting her when she woke. She sat up slowly, and looked over at Falon, his gold eyes tired and worried. She sighed, and petted his side fondly, "You stayed up all night didn't you?" he growled softly, protectively. For as long she could remember, he would stay up if she had a nightmare. He could use his tether to the Fade to grant her a deep, dreamless sleep. "Thank you, Falon."   
  
She dressed quickly, donning her new armor, and slinging her new bow over her shoulders. She packed what few extra clothes she had. These, along with the quiver of arrows, she fastened to Falon's harness. As they exited the cabin, dawn was was just beginning to break. As ever, the Breach glowed on the horizon. The two made their way down to the stables, where Cassandra, Varric, and Solas waited for them, already prepping the few steeds the Inquisition had to offer. Commander Cullen stood nearby, talking to Cassandra.   
  
"Good morning, lethallan," said Solas as she approached. She nodded in response, and returned the wave Varric sent her way. She proceeded to where Cassandra and the Commander stood. Falon went to sit by Solas, eyeing the horses warily.   
  
"Good morning Cassandra, Commander." Cassandra nodded,   
  
"And to you, Herald. Cullen and I were just discussing your mount. Or lack of one, actually. The Commander here has offered to allow you the use of his mount, Atlas." Melana frowned and looked over at him,    
  
"Won't you require it's use, Commander?" He smirked,  
  
"Yes, if the Inquisition wasn't keeping me chained to the War Table." He rubbed the back of his neck, "Frankly, I haven't been able to give Atlas the exercise he deserves. He is meant for battle, not idle grazing. Being stuck in Haven's stables is no place for him." He gestured toward the stable, "He is right this way, if you'd follow me." Melana nodded, and the two walked toward the stable. Cassandra returned to her own horse, to re-check equipment.   
  
The stable smelled of straw, and was much warmer than the mountain air outside. The passed a number of empty wooden stalls, then stopped at the largest near the end. Melana gasped at the sight of the horse inside. It was  _massive_. It whinnied at the sight of the Commander, and leaned out over to stall gate to nudge his shoulder. He chuckled in response, and patted the the horse's neck, "Lady Melana, this is Atlas." She stared at the horse in awe. It was a glossy black, with a shaggy mane and tail, its hooves nearly as large as her head. It towered above her, even taller than Falon. Seeing how nervous she was, Cullen took her hand, and placed it on Atlas's neck. "You respect him, and he will respect you," he said softly. He stood behind her, and she had to look up and over her shoulder at him. He honeyed eyes were warm, "Just talk to him." He slowly removed his hand from hers, and took a step back. Melana looked up at Atlas, and slowly rubbed her hand up and down his neck.  
  
"Hello, Atlas. You're very intimidating." She heard the Commander chuckle quietly behind her, "I seem to be in need of your help, however, and the Commander tells me you're itching for a run." The horse huffed in response, pawing at the ground. There was an intelligence in its eyes, not as human as Falon's, but still present. She turned to the Commander, her hand still on Atlas's neck, "Do you think he'll let me ride him? You two seem... Bonded." He frowned,   
  
"He has rejected riders in the past..." he rubbed his chin, "Ah! I know." He walked up to the stall gate and opened it, then ushered Melana to follow him in. She entered the stall cautiously, fully aware of the power the horse possessed. The Commander busied himself with saddling Atlas. Lifting the heavy saddle onto the horse's back with the ease and speed of someone who had done it countless times. After making sure the horse tackled properly, he beckoned Melana over. Once she was next to him, he smiled, "Ready?" She nodded. He picked her up by the waist, and lifted her up to the saddle. She cried out in surprise, but did not resist. Once seated, she looked down him, face flushed. He had lifted her with same ease as the saddle. He chuckled, "I do apologize, but Atlas needed to see me do that. Now he knows that I trust you, and he should trust you too."   
  
"Oh." It was all she could say. Her sides tingled where his strong hands had lifted her. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and she knew her face had to be bright pink.  
  
"Why don't you lead him out of the stable, settle into that saddle a bit?" She nodded, and took hold of the reigns. She nudged Atlas's sides gently with her heels. She was tense, picturing the large draft bucking her off. To her relief, the horse left her guide it out of the stable, and over to the rest of her party. Varric whistled,   
  
"Now  _that's_ a horse. Where in Thedas did Curly find  _that_?" Nearby, Falon growled softly. Melana sighed,   
  
"Falon, just because it is bigger than you doesn't make it an enemy." Falon huffed in response, but still came to her side, if at a distance.   
  
"Alright, everyone, mount up!" Cassandra called out, "It is almost a day's ride to the Hinterlands, and I would prefer  _not_  to ride in the dark."   
  
"Oh relax, Seeker."  
  
"Quiet, Varric."  
  
Melana waved to Commander Cullen as they left, Atlas letting out a whinny of approval.   
  
****  
  
They arrived at the Inquisition's camp just before dusk. They dismounted, sore and stiff from the long ride. On the road, Melana had silently told Falon about the dream, about Melava and her vallasin, and her father's attack. The dream had been deeply discomforting, and worse, it hadn't felt like a dream. It had felt like a  _memory._  She remembered the second presence in the Fade, and wondered if the memory had been theirs. She had decided to ask Solas about it. He had more knowledge of the Fade than she, and hoped he could help her. After settling in to the forest camp, she pulled him aside.  
  
They walked down from the camp, to the rocky edge of the plateau it sat on, overlooking a small village. They sat down on a pair of boulders, facing each other. Melana wore a simple shirt and pants, both made of thin cotton, and could feel the heat the stone had collected during the day radiating up toward her. She ran her hand  across the weathered surface of the boulder, trying to phrase what she wanted to know.   
  
"Solas, you speak fairly fluent Elvish, yes?" She looked up from her wandering hand, and at the elf.  
  
"I like to think so, yes."   
  
"How would you translate the word 'melava'?" The elf tilted his head,   
  
"Melava? Closest translation would be... time?" Melana shook her head,  
  
"Not just time,  _past_." He raised a brow,"My name, Melana, means  _present_." She rubbed her temples, "What is the significance? I can't figure it out..." she was mumbling.   
  
"May I ask what this is about, lathallan?" Solas's voice sounded troubled.  
  
"I... I had the strangest experience in the Fade last night." She leaned back on her hands, avoiding the other elf's eyes, "I  _think_  I was in someone else's dream, or memory. A spirit maybe? I saw two armies, both Elvhen, ready to battle. Judging by their armor, they looked to be from the time of Elvhenan.." she paused, a took a deep breathe, "There was this woman. She ran toward one of the leaders, screaming, begging for him to stand down. She called him Father..." Solas seemed tense, and Melana felt the knot forming in her throat,"He drew his sword on her, called her a traitor, and then..." she struggled to hold back the tears. The dream had affected her in a way she couldn't explain. Her eyes met his, "She looked just like  _me_ , Solas. He called her Melava! What does that  _mean_?" He leaned forward,   
  
"Take a breathe, calm down. It  _is_  possible that what you say was a spirit attempting to string together a past for you. That mark on your hand could be acting like a beacon in the Fade, drawing them to you. And after our discussion the other day... Have you been thinking about your lost history a lot, Melana?" She paused, then nodded slowly,  
  
"More than I have in years, actually. It has just been a part of me for so long... And then you offered to help me look, I was so happy."She frowned, "But of that was the case, why would the spirit show me  _that_? Why would it get my name wrong? Why would she have a vallasin, when I don't?"   
  
"She had a vallasin?" his voice was light, but Melana thought she heard a tension there.  
  
"Yes... It was gold, as if her skin had been inlaid with metal. And wasn't just on her face. It went down her neck, arms... It wasn't a design I recognized, either." Solas frowned, ever so slightly,   
  
"That is odd..."  
  
"I felt another presence in the Fade, do you think it truly could have been a spirit?" Melana was frowning, tugging idly on a strand of hair, twirling it nervously in her fingers.  
  
"Without being there myself, it is hard to say. It is possible. It could have also been a hazy memory. One recovered due to the trauma of recent events. Maybe this 'Melava' looked so much like you because she was related to you? Perhaps both? Maybe a spirit found this memory in the Fade, and presented it to you in an attempt to help?" Solas raised his hands, a small gesture of defeat. Melana sighed,  
  
"You're right, Solas. Without knowing more, there is no saying if what I saw was even  _real_... It just  _felt_  so real. When he drew his sword on her... It affected me, Solas.  _I_  felt everything she did, the anger, sadness, defeat,  _betrayal..._ All of it!" Melana's hands were clenched into fists, "She wasn't  _me_ , but wasn't  _not_  me. I can't explain it..." sighing with frustration, she dropped her head and stared at the ground.  
  
Solas moved to kneel in front of her, forcing her to look him in the eye, "It's alright, Melana," his voice was soft, kind, "I'm sure there was a reason it was showed to you. If you like, I can even check on you in the Fade?" She shook her head,   
  
"Thank you, but I think I upset Falon enough that he isn't going to be letting  _anything_  near me while I sleep." Solas chuckled,   
  
"Yes, I daresay he won't." He stood up, and held out his hand, "Shall I walk you to your tent, Lady Lavellan?" She smiled wryly, and took it,  
  
"Why I suppose you shall, my good ser." He tucked her arm into the crook of his, and began their walk back to camp. As they neared the tents, Solas paused,   
  
"If I may ask, why  _don't_  you have a vallasin?" Melana looked up at  him, surprised,   
  
"I was already past the normal age when I joined the clan, and even though my Keeper offered, it never felt  _right_. How could I chose a patron god to live by, if I have no idea where I come from, or what I stand for? The clan did not always agree with my choice, but they respected it. I always told my Keeper, if I found my way, then maybe I could choose." She frowned, "I suppose the whole concept must seem silly to you. I know how you feel about the Dalish..." Solas's grip on her arm tightened slightly, and he pulled her to a stop. They stood just out of earshot of the camp.  
  
"No matter how I feel about the Dalish, their ideals mean something to  _you_." He stood close enough that Melana could smell him, a strange mix of oak and vanilla. "Do not dismiss yourself so quickly, da'len. Your ideals are what shape and guide you. You may not realize it, but..." his blue eyes wavered, "It's those decisions that define you, and the why I, among many, choose to follow you now."   
  
"Follow  _me?_ "   
  
"You are the Herald to some, and merely a sign of hope to others. Sometimes, that is enough."  
  
"What am I to  _you?_ " the question came out before Melana could think,  
  
"You are..." He looked away, as if searching for words. "You are a mystery. An enigma. A blinding light at which one cannot resist looking..." He turned back to her and smiled, "But I doubt you wish to hear me carry on." He resumed there walk, and before long they had reached her tent. He left her with a kiss on the hand, and a quiet 'goodnight'. She ducked into the large tent and was happy to see Falon already asleep inside. After removing her boots, she sat down next to him and leaned against his side.   
  
The slow rhythm of Falon's breathing rocked her back and forth, and she could feel the soft  _thud thud_  of his heart against her back. She laid there for awhile, thinking about the conversation with Solas.  _Could it of been a spirit?_  The idea felt wrong. She could tell the difference between a spirit and a person in the Fade. The presence she had felt was  _spirit-like_  but more human,  _emotional._ Similar to Falon's signature... She sat straight up.  _E_ _xactly_  the same as the wolf that had visited her in her dream!  _Fen'Harel...?_  Had he  _shown_  her the memory? Or had she merely stumbled upon it in the Fade? She frowned, remembering what Solas had said,  _there was a reason it was shown to her._  She considered going to his tent to ask, but something stopped her. Considering his knowledge of the Fade, and the Elvhen past, did he even believe the old gods were real? He would probably be offended by the idea of a Dalish claiming to have met the Dread Wolf. Sighing, she snuggled back into Falon's side. She would just have just have to wait until she had some sort of proof to show Solas before asking him about it.   
  
****  
  
The party remained in the Hinterlands for just over a month. They met with a Chantry Mother, Giselle, who left for Haven to supply Liliana with names of other Mothers who would be amiable to meeting with the Inquisition. They then found supplies and aid for the refugees caught in the middle of the mage-templar violence. Violence, which they had to put to a stop. Melana was saddened by every mage or templar they felled, wishing they had instead listened to reason. Some did surrender, but not many. They drove the mages and templars out of the area, then proceeded to find Horsemaster Dennet. After assuring him his lands would be protected, and building watchtowers in the area, he agreed to join the Inquisition, and supply them with the finest mounts in Thedas. Melana had closed rift after rift after rift. With each one, the mark on her hand seemed stronger, the rifts easier to close. After asking Solas about it, he seemed certain it posed her no physical danger, but asked for her to keep him informed of any changes.  
  
Their time in the Hinterlands was almost at a close, and Melana was surprised that she looked forward to returning to the small cabin in Haven. They were prepping for the return when they received a crow from Liliana, stating that she and Josephine had successfully convinced a few of the Chantry Mothers in Val Royeaux to meet, but the party would have to head straight there. They had moaned a collective sigh, but mounted up and began the trek.  
  
  
  
***This chapter is a little light, sorry. I started to write out all of the Hinterland arc and then said screw it. Lets just all smile, nod, and say 'Yea okay, GET ON WITH IT.' I know you're really all here for the  _DRAMA._ Don't lie to yourself, we all know why you're here. And I hope I didn't upset anyone with her memory troubles. Bare with me, I've got some really cool stuff planned ahead! :D As always, your comments and support make my day. :)  
  
Also, if there is any confusion as to Falon's size, standing up, he is as tall as Cullen. Atlas stands about two heads taller. Hope that helps some!***


	7. The Troubles of Val Royeaux

Cullen prowled the training ground, his mood black, "Soldier, there is a shield in your hand!  _Block with it._  If this man was your enemy, you'd be dead." There was an edge to his voice, one that made his trainees cringe. He did not sound angry, but calm, lethal. The War Room meeting earlier in the morning had him seething internally, but he managed to keep control over it. Liliana's agents had sent word of the events of Val Royeaux. Not only had the Chantry Mothers accused Melana of  _murdering_  the Devine, but Lord Seeker Lucius, leader of the Templars, had allowed an officer to  _slap_  a Mother, then proceeded to abandon the Chantry, taking with him all the Templars under his command. Cullen had chosen to leave the Order in favor of the Inquisition, but still had viewed the Templars as his brothers and sisters at arms. He held great respect for their ideals, their vows. Repressing the mage rebellion was one thing, but abandoning the Chantry  _entirely?_  It was inconceivable. The party had also stopped in Redcliffe to speak with the mages, only to discover them to be  _sworn to a Magister!_  A Magister, they were told, that meant Melana harm.   
  
His head throbbed, his body ached. Being Commander had its strains, but it paled in comparison to lyrium withdrawl. It had been two months, and already he felt his resolve wavering. The lyrium had empowered, but also leashed him. He wanted to be free from the Chentry, from the templars, but most of all, from the person he used to be. Everything was so loud, so bright; the glitter of armor, the glare of the Breach, the clang of swords and shields...He turned drills back over to a lieutenant, then proceeded toward the Chantry. He craved the silence of the stone walls, the rhythm of the Chant as Mothers and the devout prayed. He crossed through Haven's gates, and as he was passing the tavern, he heard heated voices.  _Maker's breathe, what now?_  As he rounded to corner, he saw the mage and templar who stood in the thick of a small crowd. Sighing, he increased his speed, and made his way quickly through the crowd.  
  
"Your kind killed the Most Holy!" cried the templar, a light haired man,   
  
"Our kind?  _You_ templars let her die!" retorted the mage, a dark haired man. They both were reaching for their weapons when Cullen shoved them apart,   
  
"Both you, enough!"   
  
"But Knight-Captain!" exclaimed the templar.  
  
"That is not my rank anymore. We are  _all_  members of the Inquisition now." He said the words pointedly, looking from one to the other. "We all mourn the Devine's death, now is not the time for blame." The two men separated, albeit unhappily, and walked away, the crowd dispersing with them.   
  
"What  _is_  it the time for,  _Commander_?" spat Chancellor Roderick, who seemed to materialize from the crowd. Cullen felt his barely curbed irritation bubble to the surface, and he turned to the Chancellor, prepared to snap back, but a familiar voice cut in first,   
  
"Now is the time for  _action_ , Chancellor." Approaching them was Melana, Cassandra at her side. She smiled coyly at Cullen as she approached, "Remind me Commander, why do you allow him to stay?" Her voice was different from when she left, it carried strength, and a confidence in authority.   
  
"He is toothless, Lady Herald. However unpleasant, he bares no real threat." Cullen's stomach fluttered as he spoke, an instant response to seeing Melana. The Chancellor next to him scoffed angrily,   
  
"You would rather watch the world  _burn_ , than listen to reason!" He spun on heal and stomped away. Cullen couldn't help but chuckle at the grown man's tantrum.  _At least someone is more frustrated than I_ , he thought. He turned to face Melana and Cassandra, who now stood mere feet from him. "It's good to see the both of you." He meant it. Though they both looked weary, they carried themselves with a graceful strength that most lacked. He had missed Cassandra's driven nature and Melana's... _everything_. His stomach knotted at the sight of her, his reaction even stronger after the long month she had been away. Cassandra gave a half-shrug,   
  
"It will be better after a hot bath and a long night's rest in a real bed." Melana laughed,   
  
"I couldn't agree more! At this point I think Falon is the cleanest of us!" The two women laughed, and Cullen was amazed to see the bond that had formed between them while they were away. They stood closer than he had seen anyone stand next to Cassandra, even Liliana. There was the kind of trust only formed by fighting at another's side. Cullen envied that closeness. He gestured toward the Chantry doors,  
  
"In that case, why don't we get the briefing over with so you can get settled back in?"   
  
****  
  
After a tedious meeting in the War Room, where Liliana already knew everything that had happened anyway, ( _dammed crows_ ) Melana went back to her cabin. Cassandra's suggestion of a bath had sounded delightful, and Melana could not wait to sink into scalding hot water. As she opened the door to the small cabin she couldn't help but smile. In truth, she had missed it. The Dalish often slept in tents or under the stars, but after the long weeks of exhausted stops on hard ground, she had found herself longing for the soft shemlen bed. She was pleased to see a large metal tub tucked into one corner, full of fresh water, and a small fire crackling in the fireplace. No doubt, Liliana had sent a runner to prep the cabin for her return. Sometimes the seemingly omniscient nature of their spymaster was unsettling, but Melana couldn't be more thankful for it in that moment.   
  
She walked over to the tub, and dipped her fingers in the water. It was lukewarm. Sighing, she swirled her fingers in the water and let her magic shimmer across the surface, heating the water. She hummed quietly as she did so, stopping when the water was almost too hot to touch. She walked over to her satchel laying on the bed, and retrieved a small pouch of herbs. She sprinkled a few pinches into the tub, and soon the smell of honeysuckle and vanilla wafted from the water. She removed her armor and boots, then her cotton under clothes, and finally the simple lace underthings Cassandra had insisted she wear. (*Dalish go commando, guys.*) She slid into the tub with a satisfied sigh.   
  
Humming softly to herself, she set about scrubbing every inch of her skin. They had bathed in rivers and springs frequently, but always rushed and never privately. It had always been safer to go in pairs, so Cassandra had been her partner. Melana had no qualms about bathing with another person, but Cassandra was amusingly pious. The warrior had insisted on sitting 'watch' while the other bathed, always with her back turned to the water. Melana had always hurried to rinse off quickly, so Cassandra could have extra time in the water; being the one charging into battle often left Cassandra much dirtier. It felt good to know she could take as long as she liked. After feeling sufficiently clean she settled down into the water, all but her face submerged. Under the water, all she could hear was her own breathing and heartbeat. The silence was soothing after the constant turmoil she had experienced in the past few weeks.  _Peace and quiet_... She began to drift off to sleep, the exhaustion of travel sinking in.   
  
 **Knock knock knock.**  
  
A hand knocked on the door loud enough for Melana to hear it even under water. Groaning, she sat up.  _A Herald's work is never done._  "Just a moment!" she called, standing up in the tub. She grabbed a silk robe off her dresser, pulling it over her quickly, and tying it off at her hip. She opened the the door to see Commander Cullen standing at her doorstep,  
  
"Herald! I-" he stopped as soon as she came into full view, his face flushing bright red. He looked down and away, startled, "I apologize, I didn't mean to disturb you." Melana frowned, confused. And then became painfully aware of the damp silk sticking to her equally damp skin. She gasped,   
  
"Commander, I'm so sorry I didn't even think-" She tugged at the bottom of the short robe, and crossed one arm across her chest, "If you wouldn't mind waiting just a moment!" she ducked behind the door, and slammed it shut. She was mortified. The silk robe clung to her like a second skin, hiding next to nothing. She may as well of invited the Commander to come inside while she was still in the tub.  _Then he could have joined you..._  She blushed at the thought, surprised by her mind's sudden leap. She dressed quickly in her phoenix leather pants and one of Cassandra's dark wool shirts.  _Mythal save me_ , she prayed silently, and opened the door again. The Commander still stood awkwardly on the step, a large green bottle in one hand. She smiled weakly, "Come on in Commander." He nodded, and followed her inside, closing the door behind him,   
  
"I must again apologize for bothering you, I know you had planned to relax most of today..." Melana shrugged, trying to hide her still flushed face, and plopped down on her bed.   
  
"There is a chair over there," she said, pointing to her desk, "if you'd like a seat."   
  
"I'd rather stand, of you don't mind," he replied politely. She caught an undertone of strain in his voice, and wondered what had changed while she was gone. He was paler, dark circles hung beneath his honeyed eyes, and even though his stance was a straight as ever, there seemed to be a struggle to hold it. She doubted anyone had noticed the change, he hid it well, but she could  _feel_  the weariness that radiated from him.   
  
"Very well. What brought you over?" she began combing her long hair through her fingers, feeling self conscious about her own appearance. She twisted it up into a quick knot, pulling the wet hair out of her face and off her neck.  
  
"I wanted to speak with you about the Templars, actually..." he held up the bottle in his hand, "I brought you a bottle of Orlesian Canneberge, Varric said you had developed a fondness for it. I brought it as a peace offering of sorts." He handed the bottle out to her.  
  
"Peace offering?" She rolled the bottle in her hands, reading the familiar label. She had gotten a bottle of the cranberry wine during their travels and instantly had fallen in love.   
  
"I... As you know, I was a templar before joining the Inquisition." The Commander frowned, "After the events in Val Royeaux, I wanted to apologize for whatever madness has come over my former brothers and sisters. " He rubbed the back of his neck, and Melana couldn't help but smile at the familiar gesture.   
  
"Commander, you needn't apologize for them. The Lord Seeker and a handful of officers seemed to be the only ones truly corrupted. In fact, one of the templars tried to convince him to listen to reason while we were there." she smiled kindly, "I appreciate this, though." she held up the bottle. He smiled weakly,   
  
"Varric basically threw it at me earlier when he saw me headed this way. Said something I couldn't quite hear about 'chuckles'." Melana nodded absently, staring back at the bottle.  _Chuckles?_  Varric had taken to calling Solas that.  _What is that dwarf up to now,_  she wondered. "I know you are a mage yourself, Lady Melana, but-" he sighed, "it may seem selfish, but might I ask you to not give up on the templars just yet? This business with the Magister seems too risky, in my opinion."   
  
"I hadn't planned on it, Commander," she replied kindly. His eyes brightened, "I may not know them as you do, but there is something not  _right_  about the whole ordeal. As for the mages... I never was a Circle mage, but I still would like to  _try_  to help them." She looked back down at the bottle in her hands, "Have you ever tried Canneberge, Commander?"  
  
"I can't say I have..." he said slowly. She smiled ,   
  
"In that case, I  _insist_ you have a drink with me."   
  
"I-  _now_? It's not even midday!" He shook his head, "I'm afraid I must decline." She pouted.  
  
"Well... tonight then. Come by and have a drink with me." The Commander paused,   
  
"I- I suppose I could..." He seemed flustered by her invitation, and it excited her in a way she hadn't expected. Embarrassing and shocking him was becoming a secret thrill. He was always very collected, strong, and confident. Seeing him ruffled was...  _adorable_.   
  
"I will see you tonight then, Commander"   
  
****  
  
As soon as the Commander left, Melana laid back on her bed, staring up at the simple rafters above her. Falon was off on a run, most likely with Solas somewhere in the wood. The two had been spending quite of bit of time together lately, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. Falon was  _hers._  The one being in Thedas that would always protect her, always be there for her. He was her only family, and now it felt like Solas was taking him away.  _Or is Falon taking away Solas?_  The thought felt odd, almost foreign, but rang with a hint of truth. The two elves had grown closer, but she had shrugged it off as no more than the bonds she had also developed with Cassandra and Varric. Fighting together, they were brothers and sisters at arms. But if she was honest, she had often times found herself staying up late at camp, talking with Solas about his adventures in the Fade, or the history of their people that he had uncovered. She had not had any more strange dreams, too exhausted from their travels to dream at all, really, but still she found questions to ask him. He had taught her more about their pantheon of gods than her Keeper ever could have.   
  
There was something about him that drew her to him, a kinship she couldn't place. He felt familiar, safe. She could tell by the softness in his voice when he spoke to her that he felt the same... and yet he held her at arms length. As if she were made of glass, and he feared she would break. Often times in the thick of battle he would find his way to her side and sheathe her in his aura, cloaking her in protective magic. He sometimes would reach out, as if to take her hand, then change his mind. It was as if he was scared to get too close to her, but more scared of leaving her alone. Melana thought back to when Falon has asked her if she wanted Solas as her 'mate'. It was true that he was one of the People, and she couldn't deny the idea had a certain amount of  _rightness_  to it.  _But what of the Commander?_  She frowned. Solas was warm,  _safe_ , but the Commander was different. His presence made her whole body flush, her heart flutter.  _Commander Cullen._  Groaning, she pulled a pillow over her face. Never before had she considered finding someone to  _be_  with.   
  
Falon was her second half, her best friend. While living with the clan, the idea of men, or even women, had never really interested her. She had been content with her life the way it was.  _Besides, who would accept someone with no past?_  There had been plenty of attractive, eligible members of her clan, but none of them appealed to her. They were whole, happy with their place in the world, and she was not. Solas accepted that about her,  _embraced_ everything that she was, and the Commander... he was just as broken as she was. She could  _feel_  the pain he carried, and had seen for herself just a few of the  _physical_  reminders of that pain. Sighing, she pulled the pillow off her face, yawning. Why had Varric given the Commander a bottle of her favorite wine? What had he said about Solas? What did he know that she didn't?   
  
She drifted off to sleep still pondering the whole ordeal.   
  
****  
  
 _The Fade swirled around her, the first time in weeks she had consciously dreamed. She was standing at a dock, staring out over a murky lake, her only company the stars. The moon winked in the reflection of water, small waves rippling across its surface. She felt a sense of peace here, a serene calm. Removed from the noise and hustle of the world. Away from all the pain, all the death. She sat down at the edge of the water, and dangled her bare feet in the water. Content in solitude._  
  
****  
  
Melana awoke from her nap some time later, early evening. Stretching, she smiled happily. While she slept, her hair had fallen out of the loose knot, and it now hung in loose ringlets that framed her face. After quickly combing it with her hands, she wove it into a quick braid that hung down her back. She noticed Falon's continued absence, and frowned. She let let her aura expand, searching for his. When she found it, a pang of hurt struck her. Once again he was with Solas. With a huff she whipped her aura back in.  _Fine._  Falon, she knew, had felt her looking for him, and also her response when she did. His aura tried to reach out to her, concerned, but she pushed him away,  _stay with Solas,_  she spat angrily. He shrunk away, wounded. She was being petty, she knew, but couldn't help it. She tugged on her boots, deciding to go and visit Atlas. She still had some time before the Commander  was supposed to come by.   
  
She walked out Haven's gates, past the now empty training grounds, and toward the stables. Stepping into the stable, the smell of warm straw met her. "Atlas?" She called softly down the row of stalls. An excited whinny called from the end. Smiling, she made her way down to him. He greeted her with his usual gentle nudge, and she with a pat on his neck. "Hey there, handsome. They treating you alright?" Upon arrival, she had turned the mount over to Horsemater Dennet and his stablemen. She had been in a rush, so she hadn't been able to see to him the way she would have liked. Atlas responded with a huff, and she couldn't help but chuckle. "Yea, yea I know, they didn't give you any apples or sweets, huh?" the horse reared his head back, his long black mane swishing, "I'll take that as a yes." She turned around to look for the satchel of apples that normally hung in the stable, and was startled to see Commander Cullen leaning against a nearby pillar.   
  
"Atlas has taken quite the fondness to you," he said softly, almost sadly. Melana frowned, taking a few steps toward the Commander. He looked even paler than before, almost faint.   
  
"The occasional bribe helped... Commander are you alright?" She was just a few feet away from him now, and suspected he was not leaning on the post just to be charming. He smiled weakly,   
  
"I'm fine, just a little headache. I had planned to come see Atlas, but it looks like you've got it covered." There was a swirl of emotions heavy in his voice, all reflected in his honey eyes. He held himself with strength, but it was only skin deep. Melana closed the remaining distance between them, and looked up at him,   
  
"I never did properly thank you for letting me borrow Atlas..." she murmured, "So, thank you, Commander." She smiled up at him, her face flushed from their closeness. All she had to do was lean forward...  
  
"It was the least I could do," he replied, his voice tight. His eyes were distant, his expression cold. She faltered, taking a step back.   
  
"I... I think I will retire then, if you don't mind." She stepped past him, her face red. "I'll see you in the War Room, Commander." She walked out of the stable before he could respond.   
  
****  
  
Cullen barely registered her exit as she all but ran past him. The withdrawls were nearly in control. His body ached, his blood burned. After seeing a templar take his daily philter of lyrium, he resolve had been shaken. He had barely been able to stumble to the stables, trying to distance himself from the lyrium stores that he  _knew_  were just yards from his own tent. He could feel it, pulsing, singing,  _calling_  to him. When Melana had been in the stable, he had felt nothing but rage and hurt at seeing her so close with Atlas. Cullen had barely been able to stay calm when she came up close, smiling like  _that thing._   _The Desire Demon._ Logic told him that it was just her, Melana, the Herald, but fear screamed that it was a trick, a deception. Lately he couldn't tell the difference between reality and the night terrors that haunted his nights. When she had looked shocked at his coldness, hurt even, he had been numb to it.  _You'll regret it tomorrow,_ he thought, _if it_  was  _real_. With labored steps he made his way to Atlas's stall, and collapsed on a pile of straw in the corner of the small space. He could barely feel the sharp straw dig into his skin, a tickle compared to the pain that needled through him.  _You can't give in to it... You will be a slave to it no more._    
  
****  
  
Melana walked past Haven's gates, past the training ground, and toward the pine forest that lay beyond. Her steps were quick, silent in the purple light of dusk. She was hurt, confused, and most of all angry. Angry at the Commander, Solas, Falon, the Inquisition, the Breach, and most of all, herself.  _Why?_  Her world had been so simple before the Conclave, and now she felt as if her fate flew hither and yon, like a leaf in the throws of fall. For the first time in her life, she wanted nothing more than to be alone.   
  
Melana walked well into the night, weaving her way through the tree, her lithe feet barely leaving an indent in the deep snow. The icy mountain wind pierced through the simple shirt and pants she wore, and she shivered. Her destination was close, however, so she pushed on. She smiled when the cave entrance came into view, hidden in the crags of the mountain stone. It was little more than a crack, barely wide enough for her to duck inside. Murmuring in Elvish, a small ball of veilfire formed in her hands, illuminating the cave in a greenish blue light. Pillars of rough stone towered around her, and the soft trickle of water could be heard a distance from where she stood. The cave was immense, the size and height of a grand Orlesian ball room. Melana cast the ball of veilfire up above her, to the ceiling. It stuck to the peak of the cave, growing large enough to illuminate the entire space. It hung above her like a small sun.   
  
Melana had discovered the cave while exploring with Falon, and had been fascinated with it. All manner of odd herbs and mushrooms peppered the cave's smooth floor, glowing dimly, clustering around the pool of water that lay at the cave's center. It bubbled softly, mist rolling from the water. A natural hot spring. Melana discarded her icy clothes and boots. She padded over to the water, dipping in a toe to test the temperature, then dove in.  
  
  
***I was -this- close to just giving in and letting her and Cullen go at it,  _but_  there is some plot that we need to cover... Soon. ^^***


	8. Whispers of the Just Pt. 1

***This chapter would have been posted a ton sooner, buuuut my computer glitched the fuck out and deleted the WHOLE DAMN CHAPTER. So I had to re-write it. So it probably isn't nearly as good as it was before. I was mad, so I wrote it kind of speedily, all frustrated. >.< ***  
  
  
  
Melana returned to Haven just before dawn, a plan set out in her mind.  _No time for distractions._  She went to her cabin and changed into her armor, exiting a few moments later fully geared, bow across her back, hair in a tight braid. Falon found her as she walked down to the training grounds, in search of Cassandra.  _ **Da'assan...?**_  She turned to him and smiled some, "Hey you." He let out a huff of relief and bounded forward to nuzzle her side.  _ **I'm sorry.**_  She chuckled, and tugged gently on his ear. "Me too."  
  
After finding Cassandra, Melana explained her plan. The two of them would go to Redcliffe to speak with the Magister, Alexius, while Josephine and Cullen worked out on how to approach the templars. Liliana had already figured out how to sneak agents into the castle, so all the two women had to do was distract the Magister. Cassandra was surprised by the suddeeness of the decision, but agreed to go. After a discussing it, Cassandra left to pack and inform the war council. Falon looked over at Melana.  _ **Why so soon, da'assan?**_ Melana paused, "We need to act fast if we are going to ally with both the mages and the templars." _ **Why are you leaving Solas behind?**_  "I- He-" she sighed, "I just can't afford any distractions right now." _ **Is this because of the shemlen man?**_  Melana frowned, "I'm not sure yet..." Confused, Falon grumbled quietly at her side, but didn't push for any more information.  
  
Cassandra came back through Haven's gates, Varric hot on her heels. As she approached Melana, she spoke beneath her breath, "This is your doing." Varric came up to Melana in a huff,   
  
"Are you insane?! You are going to walk straight into a magister's trap alone?!" Cassandra rolled her eyes,  
  
" _I_  will be with her, Varric. Along with Liliana's scouts, and the Tevinter mage, Dorian." Varric threw his hands up in the air,  
  
"Oh great, I feel  _so_  much better." Melana couldn't help but smile at the dwarf's concern,  
  
"I will be fine, Varric. Falon and Cassandra will protect me, and I'm not exactly a helpless lamb, you know." She let a tad of blue lightening crackle in one of her hands to illustrate her point, "Besides, Liliana's scouts have been in position for some time now, there is no point in sitting idle." Varric's eyes widened,  
  
"Idle?  _Idle_?! We've been back less than a day, and already you want to jump back into the thick of it?! Adraste's ass cheeks, Sparky!" Melana barely stifled a laugh, and Cassandra sighed. "And what about Solas and I? Are we supposed to sit  _idle_?"   
  
"The invitation asked for  _only_  me. They are less likely to raise a brow at one companion. I chose Cassandra because she can block magic, handy when dealing with  _mages_." Varric crossed his arm with a huff,   
  
"If anything happens, I'm holding you responsible, Seeker."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Do you have nugs in your ears?"  
  
"Ahem, I  _am_  still here, you know."  
  
Varric took his leave sometime later, after several minutes of berating both of them, and a quick hug to Melana. By the time he left, the stablehands had brought Cassandra her horse, a slim, white forder. She had raised a brow when they had not also brought out Atlas, but when Melana gracefully pulled herself onto Falon's back, she seemed to understand. As reliable a mount Atlas was, he was not built for speed, and if they were to reach Redcliffe in time, they needed to ride hard, and fast.   
  
They did just that, Falon bounding faster than Cassandra's mount most of the way, seemingly unencumbered by the elf nimbly seated on his back. Melana rode with one hand looped in his harness, and her legs tucked against his sides. There was no need for nudging or tugging on reigns, the two synced in thought. Cassandra kept up with more skill than most could have, as at ease in a saddle as she was on the battle field. They arrived at Redcliffe just before sunset, having received word on the road that the scouts were in position. They were greeted at the gates by two guards in Tevinter armor who led them in to the great hall. Falon was to wait outside the gates.   
  
Magister Alexius greeted them from a throne, with grandeur and fancy talk of allegiance. Melana went along with the pleasantries, smiling through her teeth, until his son, Felix cut in, proclaiming their knowledge of Alexius's plot. As soon as the words came from Felix's mouth, the Inquisition scouts slew every guard in the room, and Dorian ran to stand next to Melana. He begged for Alexius to stand down and infuriated, the magister pulled out an amulet, proclaiming that he would save his son. The amulet shot a beam of magic , and Dorian cast a deflection spell at the same time. The two spells clashed, and magic exploded through the great hall.  
  
****  
  
Melana and Dorian found themselves to be in a dungeon. Two guards cried out in surprise, and attacked. The mages dealt with the guards in a matter of seconds. Melana was forced to use elemental magic, her bow missing. As Melana searched their pockets for a key, she eyed Dorian warily. She had met the Tevinter mage only briefly before, and although he had seemed genuine in his warnings, she couldn't help but wonder if Alexius's plan was more complex than they had thought. The well-groomed mage was too busy musing their surroundings to notice her analyzing gaze. "Displacement...? Interesting... Unless, Ah! Of course! We didn't just move through space, we moved through  _time_!" he ounded quite pleased with himself, and spoke more to himself, than her. Melana frowned, letting her aura expand some, what she felt shocked her,   
  
"Dorian..." she stood slowly, "The Fade..." He frowned,   
  
"Its-  _everywhere_ " She nodded, uneasy,   
  
"But we aren't  _in_  the Fade. It feels like standing under a rift, only even stronger... If what you say is true, did we go forward in time, or back, and how far?" Dorian smiled ironically,   
  
"Now  _that_  is the question, isn't it?" Melana unlocked the dungeon door, and the two ventured through the winding cell block. They encountered smatterings of guards, but took them out with ease. All along the way they encountered red lyrium, its eerie trill echoing in their minds. As they rounded a corner, Melana stopped, and turned to Dorian,   
  
"I've been trying to find Falon, but the Fade is so  _loud._  He could be right next to me and I'm not sure I'd be able to hear him... What if he's..." her heart wrenched at the thought. Dorian squeezed her arm comfortingly,   
  
"If he is alive, we will find him. In the mean time, we have to get to the main hall. If I can get the amulet Alexius used to do this, it is possible we can undo all of this." With a heavy sigh Melana nodded, and they continued on their way. As they rounded on corridor a familiar voice echoed from a cell,   
  
"Hello? Is someone there?"   
  
"Cassandra!" Melana ran to the cell, and gasped at what she saw. Cassandra stood leaning against a wall, red lyrium jutting out of her side, connecting to pillars of it that ran to the ceiling. Her whole body was surrounded by a wispy red glow. She turned painfully to look at Melana, shock barely registering in her pained features. "You're... alive? How?" her body echoed with the red lyrium's song, distorting her words in disturbing tones.   
  
"Alexius cast us forward in time. We've only just arrived. Do you know the date?" Melana leaned against the bars of the cell. Cassandra told her the day, exactly one year in the future. "Cassandra, what  _happened_  to you?" The Seeker grimaced,   
  
"You disappeared from the hall... Guards swept in... I killed so many, but they over came me. They force fed me lyrium, but it could not control me. In fury, they embedded a shard in me... and now... it grows..." Her breathe was labored, pained. Melana placed her hand on the cell lock and blasted it open with her magic. She rushed to the Seeker's side,   
  
"We must get to Alexius. We may be able to stop this from ever happening. I can use my magic to heal you for awhile, but the affects won't last and..." she swallowed hard, "once it wears off, you may die." Cassandra smiled weakly,   
  
"Herald... Melana... I am already dead. Let me fight by your side one last time." Melana placed her hand on the Seeker's chest, and closed her eyes. She let her aura expand, drinking in power from the very present Fade. Slowly,  she began to whisper in Elvish, and the cell filled with a brilliant blue light. She pushed the magic into Cassandra, letting it pour into her weakened body. The light faded, and Melana took a step back. Cassandra blinked a few times, shaking her head, as if to clear it. The red glow had changed to a blue one, her entire body surging with Melana's magic. With a deft motion, she smashed the lyrium tethering her to the wall, leaving a thin layer of red crystals on her abdomen. Stretching, she turns to Melana, "I have not felt more alive in a long time, thank you."   
  
The group proceeded upward, Cassandra filling them in as they went. Empress Celene murdered, an army of demons, and much, much more. They found a half-dead Liliana in a torture chamber, but Melana could not rejoice. Neither of the women knew what had become of Falon.    
  
The party came upon the courtyard just outside of the great hall, and for the first time, Melana felt  _something_. A whisper of Falon's presence. She burst through the hall doors, fervent to seek out the origin. A grand elven door stood at the entrance to Alexius's chambers. Slaying any demons in her way, she ran to the door, "Falon is inside! I'm sure of it!" She placed her hand on the ancient lock, and it thrummed with an ancient magic. "I can't force it open... but it  _is_  of the People. Maybe if I just..." she ran her hands over the grand lock, tuning her magic to that of the doors, " _Tel garas solasan, melana en athim las enaste._ "The door opened with a mighty crack, and the party rushed inside. Melana screamed.   
  
Alexius stood. staring into the fireplace in the middle of the room, a pale  _creature_  huddled at his feet. In the corner, chained to the wall, was Falon. His fur was marred with scrolling black markings, red lyrium torn across his back, his claws and teeth the same eerie red. Melana ran toward him, heart in her throat. When she neared, Falon snapped at her, the chain barely holding him inches from her neck. He struggled against the chain, growling murderously. His eyes flared red, wild and rabid.  Behind her, she barely registered Liliana accusing Alexius, and Dorian demanding the amulet.  _Falon... please. Its me..._  she could not tell if she spoke or thought the words.  _Falon... Ar lathuth, Falon. Mana, ar lasa maleth!_  She was screaming the words, begging, letting her emotion coat every syllable. Falon seemed to tense, a flicker of recognition in his eyes, the red fading ever so slightly,  _ **Da... da'assan...?**_  His voice was faint, barely present. Sobbing she hugged him,  _I'm so sorry Falon, this is all my fault..._  He whimpered, the pain of the lyrium festering inside him clouding his mind.  ** _It will take me again soon, da'assan... Ma ghilana mir din'an... please..._**  She shook,  _I can't Falon... I can't._  He laid down before her,  ** _You must. Ir abelas, I failed to protect you. If you make it back... pride must become truth, the wolf must not hide in fear... Ar lathuth, da'assan..._**  Falon's voice began to fade, the red creeping back into his eyes. Melana placed her hand on his head, one last tear rolling down her cheek, _dareth shiral, Falon._  Her hand flashed with light, and Falon's body fell limp against the stone floor.   
  
Whipping around to face Alexius, anger boiled inside of her, " _You._  You are a spineless worm!" she spat, stalking toward him. He lifted his hands to cast at her, but with a flick of her hand brilliant blue chains flew up from the floor, dragging him down to the ground. She let the nearness of the Fade consume her, her entire body thrumming with power.   
  
"There is no point, the Elder One comes for us," moaned the magister.  Melana was upon him, her eyes icy,   
  
"Then he too will perish," she hissed. A blue dagger materialized in her hand, and with one fluid motion she drove it into his heart and twisted. Ice engulfed him from the wound, and with an fierce cry she kicked him, shattering the magister like glass. Dorian recovered the amulet without a word, skirting around the panting Melana.   
  
"You must go, now!" Liliana ran up to her, ignoring her hostile stance, "If the Elder One gets here, you can never change this." As if on cue, a demonic scream echoed through the hall. "You have as much time as I have arrows. GO!"   
  
****  
  
Melana hit the floor of the great hall. Instantly she knew they were back, the presence of the Fade gone from her. Dorian helped her to her feet, keeping a hand firm on her arm. At the sight of Alexius, she took a step forward, hatred written all over her face. Dorian held her in place, shaking his head ever so slightly. "Not here. Not now." He whispered to her. Inquisition forces took the magister away, giving Melana a wide berth. She watched as they dragged him off, visions of Falon's limp body scorching her mind. Dorian released her arm as soon as they were out of sight, but hovered close, concerned.   
  
"What of us, Herald?" a petulant voice asked from behind her. Melana turned to the mage Fiona, former leader of the rebel mages.   
  
"You join the Inquisition." she replied flatly. "Free, what you always wanted." She left the hall without another word.  
  
****  
  
Falon had been waiting outside Redcliffe when her aura had disappeared. Completely. He had felt her vanish from the world. The pain that hit him was unlike anything he had felt before. His da'assan was just _gone_. Even when she had fallen into the Fade at the Conclave, and so close to death, he had  _known_  she was alive. Enraged, he had stormed up to Redcliffe's castle, shredding a number of Tevinter mages that foolishly tried to stop him. He had reached the entrance to the castle when he felt her again. Alive.  _Wait,_ her voice had told him. Growling, fur raised, he had. Moments later when she stormed out of the door, her aura hit him like a sword, radiating an agony without equal. As soon as her eyes found him, they welled with tears.  _I can't- cry- not like- this-._  Even through the Fade her voice was shaky. He ran to her, lifting her quickly to his back, and ran out of Redcliffe, toward the wood.   
  
She clung to him desperately, sobbing hysterically. Through stuttered words and grotesque images, she tried to explain what happened. Falon stopped in an isolated section of trees, and pulled the shaking elf against his heart.  _ **Ar lath,**_  he murmured softly to her,  ** _I won't fail you this time_**. She cried harder at his words, lost to her own fear and grief. Every tear that fell and each sob that racked through her struck him like an arrow, piercing his heart. His poor da'assan. Helpless to reverse her suffering, all he could do was comfort her.   
  
****  
  
After what felt like ages to her, Melana ran out of tears. She was drained, and with the exhaustion came a merciful numbness, taking the edge off her raw emotions. Falon carried her silently, projecting as much comfort as he could muster. They arrived at camp well after the moon had risen. Cassandra was pacing by the fire, and at the sight of her Melana felt a wave of relief. No lyrium, no sacrifice. The Seeker ran up to them, concern written all over her face, "Herald! Thank goodness!" her voice was warm and strong, not distorted. Melana walked over to her, and embraced her. If she had any tears left, she would have cried again. After momentarily freezing, Cassandra gave the elf a gentle squeeze. "Dorian told me some of what you experienced... I regret that I was not able-"  
  
"You died for me," Melana whispered softly. "You were so brave, the lyrium had corrupted your body, but still you fought... you and Liliana gave us enough time to escape. Thank you." Melana let go of Cassandra, and took a weary step back.   
  
"My lady you can barely stand!" She reached out for Melana who let her lead her toward her tent. Once inside, Cassandra helped her out of her armor, pulling the dark leather cuirass over her head. Melana looked down at her once white shirt, and let out a choked gasp. She was coated in blood and ichor, the thick cotton sticking to her skin where it had dried. Her stomach rolled,  _what if it's Falon's?_  Sensing her distress he whined nearby.   
  
"Cassandra..." she said weakly, her voice strained, "I- can't stay like this."   
  
"Herald-" she stopped, turning to Falon, who apparently spoke to her. Dark realization flew across her face. "Ah, I see." She proceeded to remove Melana's boots and remaining pieces of armor. "There's a nearby stream, we'll go there."   
  
****  
  
Cassandra helped the exhausted Melana off Falon's back, then dismissed him to stand guard. Melana could barely stand, the only thing keeping her awake was the sheer horror over the blood staining her skin. She struggled to remove her clothes, and after almost toppling over, Cassandra stepped in. After helping her out of the rest of her clothes, Cassandra then stripped down to her underthings, and helped her into the water. They sat down, the cool water covering Melana to just below her breasts. Without a word, the Seeker began gently rinsing her off, rubbing away the gore, and occasionally using her nails when it clung to Melana's pale skin. The Seeker freed Melana's hair from it's tight braid, letting it fall free, and gingerly tilted the elf back far enough to wet and rinse her hair. Melana sat helplessly, too drained to help or argue.  She felt the same kind of fatigue she had experienced after closing the Breach, the energy simply sapped from her.  The only thing keeping her awake was the cool water, and the tension in her body, still braced for attack. The rythmic movement of the hands across slowly lulled her into relaxation. Soon she was all but laying on Cassandra, leaning heavily against the other woman's chest. The heat from the contact seeped onto her, and the trace of warm hands against her skin left tingling trails all over. She had never been this close to another person, so exposed and vulnerable, and yet she felt safe in the Seeker's care. Sighing she gave into her frailty, laying her head on Cassandra's shoulder and closing her eyes. Every sensation, every touch rippled through her, each feeling far away and burningly personal all at once.  
  
****  
  
Cassandra's face was redder than she would have liked. She knew Melana had needed her help, and had complied without complaint, but... she had not expected to be put in such a position. In all the times they had camped together, not once had she bathed at the same time as the other woman. And now she found herself almost nude, her hands all over the naked woman laying against her.  _It's like something out of Swords and Shields_ , she thought, blushing further.  _Maker help me._  The thought made everything worse, drawing attention to every inch of the elf leaning against her, to how soft and supple her skin was as she ran her hands over it, and to the tickle of the even breathe against her neck. Cassandra tried to focus on the task at hand, wiping and washing away the blood and grime stuck to Melana's skin. Even after her shirt was removed, most of the elf's skin had been stained sickening shades of black and green. Cassandra couldn't even imagine the hell she had experienced in the false future,  and tried to find solace in the fact the at least some form of herself had been there to protect the Herald. After several minutes of gentle, but efficient scrubbing, the Seeker was satisfied. She looked down at Melana to tell her she was done, and discovered her to be asleep. Cassandra smiled some, relieved to see the peaceful look on the Herald's face. When she had arrived at camp, her expression had been tortured and distraught. Remembering the relief in Melana's violet eyes when she saw her, Cassandra felt a warmth blossom in her heart. The little elf cared so much about everything she did, and held herself with immeasurable strength, she was someone truly worthy of Adraste's grace, and Cassandra's respect.   
  
Cassandra woke Melana gently, and helped her out of the water. The smaller woman clung to her, tired and weary, making Cassandra all the more flush as their wet skin slid against one another. She managed to dress the elf in a clean set of smalls and one of her own shirts, which hung to the elf's knees. Calling Falon over, she laid the exhausted Herald on his back before getting dressed.   
  
The camp was bare of people as they approached, save for the scout on watch. When they reached Melana's tent, Cassandra helped her down from Falon's back and through the canvas entrance. Cassandra laid her on in bed, and turned to leave when a hand caught her sleeve. "Please, don't leave me alone..." the elf's voice quivered, "I can't lose you twice..." her words were slurred from sleep, but carried a fear and vulnerability that made Cassandra's heart wrench. Stepping closer  to the bed, Cassandra looked down at Melana,   
  
"As you wish, Lady Herald..." she shifted on her feet, unsure of what to do. The elf patted the bed next to her, and scooted toward the other side, leaving enough room for a second person. Cassandra sat down at the edge of the bed, but when Melana tugged weakly on her shirt once more, she laid down. The elf pulled herself closer, snuggling into Cassandra's shoulder and wrapping an arm around her waist. Within moments she was asleep again, a tiny smile on her lips. Cassandra stared up at the roof of the tent, pondering her situation.  _What would people say? A Seeker in the Herald of Andraste's bed..._  The rumors were already flying in Thedas about the Herald, what would one more do? She looked down at the tiny form tucked against her, and felt her fierce protectiveness well up once again.  _Rumors or no, she needs me_.  
  
 ** _Thank you._**  Cassandra looked up at Falon, who was entering the tent, and padding over to the bed. He laid down at the end of the bed, and looked into the Seeker's eyes,  ** _You make her feel safe, da'mi. She trusts you more than I have ever seen. You are a person worthy of this trust._**  He set his head down on the edge of the bed, yawning. Cassandra yawned in response, realizing that she too was worn out. Careful not to jostle the sleeping Herald, she got comfortable and closed her eyes.   
  
  
  
  
  
***So. Yea. Nakedness. I wrote this chapter way late at night and for some reason found myself shipping these two. In my rough drafts, this went down a very smutty road very quickly. But for now, its just implied. I cut Fiona out of the future because I'm lazy, and also screw her. Spineless, in my opinion. Plus Cassandra is the best. All badass. And sorry to any Liliana fans, but the lady scares me and just generally creeps me out, so I don't write much about her. Please comment and follow! Comments make my day, you have no idea. I'm sad, I know. #nolife, ha. Also, should I write more action and fight scenes? I didn't write them in this chapter, trying to skip to the good parts, but I can add em in if that does it for you guys. Love you!***


	9. Whispers of the Just Pt. 2

  
Melana laid curled up against Falon in front of the fireplace, nestled as close to him as possibly, her small form nearly lost in his side. They had been back at Haven for a few days, and while the others planned for their meet with the templars, she had been banned from the War Room. She had also been free of visitors, and suspected it to be Cassandra's doing, a fact for which she was grateful. Dorian had joined the Inquisition, and given a report of the events in the false future, gracefully keeping Melana from having to relive the memories. She stared down her hand, flexing her fingers and concentrating. With a muted flash of light, a blue dagger began to materialize there. She twirled the blade, testing its realness. It was heavy in her hand, and looked like blue glass. Her mind flashed to the sword Melava's father had drawn in her dream. Her concentration wavered, and the blade flickered in her hand. She refocused on the blade, and it stabilized. The magic fascinated her, never before had she considered conjuring anything beyond arrows. After her episode in the false future, it felt as if a new section of her mind had been unlocked, revealing a world of endless possibilities. The Fade had been overbearing there, however, raising her power to heights that no mage should possess. She shuddered at the memory of the way it had coursed through her, changed her. It was a relief that summoning even the small dagger now took great focus.   
  
Focusing on the magic helped block out everything else, keeping the anxiety of the false future a bay. The blade flickered again, her mind wandering in that direction.  _Concentrate on channeling the magic_. Behind her, Falon hummed an old lullaby softly, both in the Fade and in a soft sort of growl. It was soothing on every level, keeping Melana calmer than she might have been. Sighing, Melana dropped the dagger, and it shattered in mid air, vanishing. She stood up, stretching, "Falon, I can't sit here any longer, or I am going to go mad. What do you say we go check on the others?" He stood, stretching as well. "Great."  
  
After pulling on a pair her phoenix leather leggings and her boots, and pulling her long hair into a messy bun, she exited her cabin. The cool mountain air greeted her, and she breathed it in deeply. Haven, whether she had realized it or not, had become her home. She made her way to the Chantry, one hand on Falon's side at all times. She had not let him out of her sight since Redcliffe, and became horribly distressed if he was even out of reach. As she walked by the bonfire in the center of town, Varric called out to her, and jogged to her side, "Hey there Sparky, how ya feelin'?" His eyes were heavy with heartwarming concern. Melana smiled weakly,   
  
"Better than I was." Her fingers tightened in Falon's fur, "I needed some time alone, but now I need  _not_  to be alone, you know?" Varric nodded, sighing heavily,   
  
"Trust me, I do. I wanted to come see you, but Cassandra said she'd have the head of anyone who disturbed you. Been acting like quite the mama bear, that one," he chuckled, shaking his head, "Anyway, when you're feeling up to it, why don't we get a pint or two? Maybe play a game of Wicked Grace?" Melana smirked,   
  
"Wicked Grace? Are you feeling the pressing urge to empty your pockets?" He raised a brow,   
  
"Oh ho, feeling lucky, are you?" She laughed,   
  
"Of course! Good luck or bad, however, who knows?"   
  
After promising a vicious round of Wicked Grace that evening, the two parted ways, and Melana continued to the Chantry. She took a route that avoids Solas's cabin, not ready to see the other elf just yet. As the two stepped into the Chantry, a muffled, and somewhat heated, debate echoed from the War Room. Melana sighed, "Can they never agree on  _anything_?" Falon barked a laugh beside her,  ** _That's why they have you, da'assan._** She pushed open the heavy door of the War Room, and silence fell among the the four people inside. Melana entered, letting the door shut behind her with a loud  _click_. Josephine was the first to collect herself, "Good day, Lady Lavellan." Melana nodded politely in turn.   
  
"Are you... feeling well?" asked Cassandra, who stood the closest to her, Josephine and Commander Cullen standing on the opposite side of the table, and Liliana leaning against the wall behind them.   
  
"As well as I can be," Melana replied softly. "I cannot, however, sit still another second. I'll be climbing the walls soon, I promise you." Her words were lighthearted, but her eyes pleaded. "I need a focus, I need to work." The Seeker nodded, catching Melana's full meaning. She could relate to the elf's dilemma, the need to keep moving so the bad can't catch up.   
  
"We were just discussing the allegiance with with the mages, and if an alliegiance with the templars is even still feasible." Cassandra informed her.   
  
"The templars won't look kindly on us 'harboring' apostates," Commander Cullen added. Melana's stomach tightened at the sound of his voice, a familiar heat flushing across her skin. He was leaning against the table, staring down at the map, focused. He looked better than when she had last seen him, but still carried whatever inner struggle plagued him. The memory of his cold tone in the stable came to mind, and her stomach knotted even more.  
  
"The one thing we  _can_  agree on is that the templars see the Inquisition as precocious upstarts, looking to profit from the chaos caused by the Breach," stated Josephine, "If we get a noble backing, and stand at their doorstep, demand an audience, they would have no choice but to listen to us." She looked down at the clipboard in her hand, "I managed to convince a number of smaller Orlesian families, along with the head of a high-standing house to represent us. They are all scheduled to arrive in the next few days, to march with Inquisition forces to the fortress where Liliana discovered they were staying." The Commander sighed, shaking his head. He stood up straight, resting his hands on the pommel of his sword,   
  
"I doubt a few nobles with be able to convince the templars of  _anything_." He rubbed the back of his neck, "And now with this mage business..."  
  
"What if the 'Herald of Adraste' was to stand with the nobles? Even if the Lord Seeker thinks me a fake, from the looks I got in Val Royeaux, not all their officers are going to be as quick to dismiss my presence." Melana suggested.   
  
"You can't  _seriously_  want to go? After everything-" Melana cut the Commander off,  
  
"My presence in Redcliffe made our allegiance with the mages possible. Regardless of the events leading up to that point,  _I_  am the reason it was feasible. If you recall, the title 'Herald of Andraste' carries quite a bit of weight in Thedas." Her voice was determined.   
  
"I hate to admit, but... she has a point," Josephine said diplomatically.   
  
"So it would seem that we have a plan," agreed Cassandra. Commander Cullen sighed, but did not argue.  
  
"Also, Lady Lavellan. We have had some... interesting arrivals," Josephine added pensively, "Madam De Fer, or Grand Enchanter Vivienne, arrived this morning. I believe you met with her briefly in Val Royeaux? Also a Warden Blackwall sent word he will be at Haven sometime  this evening. He was invited by Liliana to discuss the absence of Grey Wardens..." She looked down at the clipboard in her hands, "Hm... Oh! And an odd elf woman arrived yesterday. From what I could gather, her name is Sera, and she is friend's with a... Red Jenny?" The Antivan woman frowned delicately, and Liliana spoke up for the first time from behind her,  
  
"The Friends of Red Jenny? I have heard of them. A group of servants, fences, and thieves who antagonize nobles... I wonder what interest she has with the Inquisition..."  
  
"I actually met Sera in Val Royeaux. She may be odd, but she and her 'friends' will be an asset to the Inquisition, I'm sure of it." Melana informed her, idly scratching behind Falon's ears.   
  
"I see..." Josephine scanned her clipboard once more, "Oh and finally, the mercenary group, the Bull's Chargers, arrived while you were in Redcliffe. Their leader, Iron Bull, has offered his Ben Hassrath connections to Liliana, along with his men for the Inquisition, and himself as a personal guard for you, should you choose to allow it... I believe that is everything." Her eyes returned to the paper.   
  
"In that case, I suggest we adjourn for the day. More recruits arrive every day, and most of them have never wielded anything more than hatchet. There is much work to be done." He said the words casually, but Melana heard an underlying edge that made the hair raise on the back of her neck.  _What is going on with him?_  She wondered.  _ **He is different from the other templars,**_  commented Falon beside her.  _Different? **Not as painful. Hard to think near them.**_  She frowned, lost in thought.   
  
"Something wrong, Herald?" Cassandra asked her, raising a brow. Melana flushed,   
  
"Wha-? Oh. No, sorry. A lot to take in, that's all."   
  
****  
  
After the War Room meeting, Melana and Falon spent most of the day in the woods, enjoying their time together. She experimented with her magic, free from prying eyes. After several exhaustive tries, she managed to conjure a bow, but was unable to keep it manifested for long, the extra effort to summon an arrow causing her focus to break. After completely tapping out her magic for the day, she practiced riding and fighting from Falon's back. After the events in Redcliffe, she was determined to take their partnership to the battlefield as well. She practiced holding to his sides with her legs as he ran,  to see if she could aim and fire a bow even as he was jumping and fighting. Time and time again she fell into the powdery snow, but she was determined to get it. He humored her, running and leaping as she directed. The exercise required their minds to be more than in sync, they needed to feel each other's intuition and instincts, move as one.   
  
After a particularly rough fall Melana finally gave in. She had pushed herself to the limit, physically and mentally, for  _hours_. Falon could sense a sort of desperation in her, a need to be stronger. It pained him to think she blamed herself in anyway for his false-death. She had felt weak, powerless to help, and now she was determined to be stronger the next time. His da'assan was fierce, to say the least. She picked herself up from the snow, brushing off the flakes that clung to her. She looked at him and grinned, "How'd I do?" He gave a powerful howl, pride radiating from him. She laughed, "Come on, it's getting late. I've got a game of Wicked Grace to play." He padded over to her, and she pulled herself onto her back with ease.   
  
Falon ran back to Haven, barely more than a blur. As they reached the gates he slowed, and Melana slid deftly from his back, seamlessly dropping to jog at his side. The pair slowed to a walk as they approached Varric's usual spot at the fire. The dwarf grinned as they approached, "And here I was beginning you'd never turn up." Melana gasped with mock outrage as she approached the dwarf,   
  
"I wouldn't  _dare_!"   
  
"Well good, because I may have invited a few others to our game." When Melana raised a brow, Varric raised his hands defensively, "Hey, I'm a sucker for a good card game." She crossed her arms,   
  
"And who else did you invite, exactly?"   
  
"A better question would be who  _didn't_  he invite?" chuckled a voice from behind her. Melana jumped, spinning around. Commander Cullen smirked, his expression light, "Last I heard, Cassandra, Josephine, Dorian, that girl Sera, Iron Bull, myself, and you were attending," he ticked the names off on his gloved fingers as he went.   
  
"I may have also invited that bearded Warden fellow," Varric added behind her. Melana shook her head, looking between the two of them  
  
"Honestly... And here I thought I might actually win a few hands." Cullen chuckled, the sound warm and sweet,   
  
"Against  _Varric_? I doubt it. The man could bluff a snake." Varric raised a brow,   
  
"What does that even  _mean_?" The Commander shrugged,   
  
"You tell me." Melana smiled at the lighthearted exchange, pleased by Cullen's change in mood. He seemed more relaxed, his aura less hectic. The two continued to banter as the group proceeded to the tavern, taking a large table in the back. Melana sat at the end, Cullen and Varric on either side of her, Falon laying behind her chair. They ordered a pitcher of mead, and settled in to wait for the others. The closeness to the Commander warmed her. His sudden change in mood had made her realize how badly she had missed his smile.  _The way the scar above his mouth quirks..._  Falon whined behind her, _ **Please stop thinking so loud**_. She choked on her mead, nearly spitting it over the table. The two men stopped talking, looking over at her. She smiled weakly, her face flushing bright red.  _Hush you_ , she mentally hissed, nudging him with her foot.   
  
Soon the rest of the group began trickling in, and before long everyone was seated and Varric was dealing cards. Melana discovered she had a knack for Wicked Grace, winning a few hands, and smartly folding on others. Josephine, however, was a master at it, manipulating the game with the same delicacy she used as Ambassador. The group played merrily well into the night, downing pints and roaring with laughter. They traded stories, and like always, Varric managed to weasel the most embarrassing tails from all of them.   
  
"And then I said, shit man, you can  _have_  the duck!" Varric finished with a flourish, the entire table bursting into laughter.   
  
"Varric, you are indeed a master story teller," Josephine remarked, breathless from laughter, "Unfortunately, I must take my leave, the Viscount Victor Von Schtaufer is arriving tomorrow, and I simply  _cannot_  handle him if I have a hangover." She stood up, bidding them all good bye.   
  
"I think I should go too," Cassandra said standing,  
  
"And I," added Blackwall.   
  
Soon Cullen, Melana, and Varric were the only ones left at the table. "Buncha quitters," muttered Varric,   
  
"Wait... Where's Sera?" asked Melana, "I didn't see her leave." She cried out when a hand pinched her inner thigh from under the table,   
  
"I'm down here luv, admirin' the view!" slurred Sera, who laughed drunkenly. She was laying under the table, presumably passed out until Melana said her name. Melana couldn't help but giggle as Sera squeezed her thigh again, "Lemme show ya what you can do with that glowy hand of yours!" Sera continued, making Varric laugh,   
  
"Looks like you have an admirer, Sparky." Sera's hand fell from Melana's thigh, the drunken elf falling back asleep. Melana chuckled, her face flush from the mead she had drank,   
  
"I hate to be a quitter, but I should probably retire too. Preferably  _before_  I end up like our friend here," Melana sighed,  pointing down at the table. She stood up, and the alcohol hit her with force. She wobbled slightly, lightheaded. Varric chuckled,  
  
"Lightweights, all of you. Hey Curly, walk her home, will you?" Cullen looked up, surprised, "Look at her, she can't even stand without swaying like a leaf." Melana held up her hands,   
  
"It's fine, Falon can-"  
  
"It's no trouble," Cullen said, standing up. Melana turned to leave, and tripped over her chair. The Commander caught her, righting her, but keeping an arm gently wrapped around her waist.   
  
"Goodnight you two," Varric waved to them as they left the tavern.   
  
****  
  
They reached Melana's cabin without Melana falling, for which she was thankful. The mead had warmed her, but as soon as the Commander touched her, she had caught flame. She had leaned into him as they walked due to her imbalance, but secretly she had been thrilled by the contact. When he reached her door and released her, she had to resist the urge to pout. She leaned against the door, looking up at him. His blonde hair shone in the moonlight, his impressive form shadowed by the dim light. He looked down at her, the night hiding his eyes. Falon stood beside her, uneasy.  _ **Da'assan... may I go for a quick run?**_   _Of course._  A wave of relief washed over him as he darted away. She watched him go before returning her attention to the Commander. He seemed to want to say something, but couldn't. She smiled coyly, "You know... I still have that bottle of Canneberge, if you care for a drink?"   
  
"That... would be nice." he sounded tense, but in a new way. There was a gravel to his voice, and it sent chills down her spine. She entered the cabin, and stumbled over the door frame. He caught her once more, his strong hands on her waist, pulling her back up. She flushed with heat, and shivered. He stepped into the cabin, closing the door behind him, but did not release her. Her back was against his chest, and she turned in his arms to look up at him. His golden eyes smoldered, and she felt her stomach tighten, her heart quicken. Her eyes found his lips, and she bit her own, her mind racing. She wanted nothing more than to stand on her tip toes and kiss him. The urge was so foreign to her, thrilling and terrifying. He looked down at her, a conflict playing out in his eyes. The primal fought the gentlemen, and she worried who might win. Her heart fluttered when she decided not to find out.   
  
Melana wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him down toward her. Her lips brushed against his, then met them with a naive hunger. Cullen tensed, then melted, his hands pulling her firm against him. He deepened the kiss, teasing the flame that grew within her. Her fingers tangled his hair, desperate to pull him closer. He pulled back from her several moments later, both of them breathless. Her entire body quivered as he looked down at her, his golden eyes hungry. "I- I should stop, I should go..." his words were low, husky.  "You can't want this, not me." She responded by pulling him down once more, gently nipping his lip before kissing him. He groaned defeatedly, kissing her back. One of his hands trailed up her back to her hair, his fingers curling at her neck. His touch felt possessive, tense with barely leashed desire. He broke away once more, and silenced her protest by kissing down her jaw, to her neck. She moaned softly when he nipped the sensitive skin there, his warm kisses teasing and torturous. He paused, breathing heavily into her neck, tickling across her skin and making her shiver. Slowly, he slid back from her, and pulled her hands from his neck. Sighing he took a step back, "Melana..." he looked pained, "I...  _we_  can't." She felt a pang in her chest,   
  
"Why not?" she demanded, voice quivering, "You can't say you don't want to... can you?" She felt vulnerable, alcohol and passion inhibiting her emotional control. Cullen ran a hand through his hair,   
  
"Of  _course_  I do, but-"  
  
"But what??" her voice tense, hurt. He flinched,   
  
"You are the  _Herald of Andraste_. And I'm..." he looked away, "I'm just... broken." his voice was low, barely more than a whisper. She went to reach for him, to comfort him, and he took a step back, shaking his head, "I'm sorry my lady, but I can't."   
  
He turned and left Melana standing there, feeling hurt and confused.

  
****

  
 _Idiot_. Cullen's fist met the wooden stable wall with an unsatisfactory  _thud_.He hit it again, and again. His blood boiled. He should have said no when she invited him in, should have been stronger, but Maker help him,  _her smile._ He was helpless around her, intoxicated by her. And now he had hurt her.  _Which is exactly why you pushed her away_. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Around her, the lyrium withdrawls disappeared, over-powered by her presence. Now, away from her, the migraine had returned, as had the familiar needling in his blood. Cullen thought back to the moment she had kissed him, timid and demanding. He shook his head, sighing. Why did she want  _him_?  _Must have been the mead_ , he tried to convince himself. He thought back to the night she had come up to him in the stable, the look in her eyes.  _Had it been real after all_? The same confusion had skittered across her face then, too. Cullen leaned back against the stable wall heavily. He had wanted her so  _badly_. He could not count the number of times he had imagined kissing her, taking her as his, and now she had kissed  _him._  He laughed bitterly,  _I must be cursed_. _Forever to be taunted by what I can't have, what I don't_ deserve.   
  
  
  
  
***Like a ditz I forgot that you can get Sera, Viv, Blackwall, and Iron Bull  _as soon_  as you finish in Val Royeaux. Duhhhhh.  Therefore, I had to write them in. Makes more sense this way anyway. I mean seriously, the council sends you around like their errand boy, for christ's sake. But. They  _literally_  cannot make a decision without you there. The fuck. Then they elect you all mighty green lamp-pole of justice and you are supposed to be surprised.  _You've been running the whole damn Inquisition yourself the entire time_. I know they do it because it's a game, but blind faith in someone you've never met like that is allllll kinds of whaaaat. Ahem. Rant over.  
  
Also, Yes I know Cullen is beyond bipolar, but addiction is a rough thing, man. Plus he is a tortured soul, so endearing, you just wanna hug him. ^^***


	10. Whispers of the Just Pt. 3

***Sorry that this chapter is so late, I've been replaying Dragon Age, starting at Origins, so I got hardcore sidetracked. But here it is, and I plan to post the next chapter by the end of tonight, so yayyyyy***  
  
  
  
  
Melana woke with a furious hangover. Everything too loud and too bright.  _Damn shemlen mead. Harsh and short lived, just like them._  Hissing with pain she sat up in her bed. She had slept fully clothed, too upset and buzzed to care at the time. They now clung to her, damp and clammy. With squinted eyes she spotted the bottle of Canneberge resting on her nightstand. She grabbed it and unceremoniously popped the cork, taking a long drag straight from the bottle.  ** _Are you well...?_**  Falon watched her from his usual post at the end of her bed.  _Just peachy,_  she muttered sarcastically through the Fade.  _Damn Commander, damn shemlen mead, damn hangover, dammit._  Her thoughts were grumpy and laced with wincing at her throbbing head.  _Damn confusing man._  Falon whined softly,  ** _why did you kiss him, da'assan? He is not of the People._**  She scoffed, taking another glug from the cranberry wine,  _that's racist Falon_.  ** _That's not an answer,_**  he retorted with a huff. Melana sighed, and set the bottle back on her nightstand,  _I don't have a reason, Falon. I just wanted to._  He growled, earning a flinch at the sound. Rubbing her temples, a thought occurred to her.  _Falon, go fetch Solas, would you? He must have a cure for this blasted pain._  Falon didn't budge. Melana looked up, annoyed.  _What?_   _ **You refused to see him even though you saw everyone else. And now you want him because you played with the shemlens. He was worried about you.**_  Falon's aura was heavy with disapproval. Melana groaned,  _Fine. You win. I will apologize. Now please, fetch._    
  
****  
  
Solas had been meditating when he heard Falon scratch softly on his door.  _ **Fen'papae? Da'assan wants to see you...**_  The elf opened the door with sigh. He had been unable to ease the tension he carried with him for the past month. Melana was constantly on his mind, constantly reminding him of unforgotten pain and guilt. They had grown close, and then in the past week she had completely avoided him. Falon had no explanation, his most articulated rationalization was literally 'lady conflict', the rest all shared impressions of her emotions, undecipherable to the poor beast. Falon's tails wagged at the sight of Solas, but he avoided the elf's eyes. His aura was pensive.  _What is it, da'len?_  Falon pawed at the ground.  ** _The lion-eyed shemlen..._**  Solas tensed, _ **da'assan kissed him.**_  Solas felt like a branding rod had been driven straight through him.  _What does she want with me, then?_  His words were terse. Falon whined a little, distressed.  _ **She had too much of the shemlen mead...**_  Falon told him, meekly.  _Very well_. Solas replied dryly, and followed Falon back to Melana's cabin.  
  
He knocked lightly before entering, closing the door quietly behind him. Solas's eyes took a few moments to adjust to the darkness of the cabin. The curtains had been drawn tight to block out sunlight. Melana sat on her bed, cradling her head in her hands. An open bottle of wine sat between her legs, which were bare. Solas internally cursed. The pained Elvhen woman sat cross-legged, the thin shirt she wore draped over her, barely covering between her thighs. It clung to the contours of her, revealing the swell of her breasts and curve of her hips. Her long black hair was wild and disheveled, alluring in a way that made him all the more frustrated.  _Proud Elvhen woman, wild and fierce, beautiful..._  his heart ached. Falon whined quietly at his side, feeling the elf's pain. Melana looked up at him, relief in her eyes, "Thank Mythal, you're here. I-" She paused, looking down at her lap, suddenly embarrassed, "I suppose I should have kept the pants, huh? Just so clammy... and they were so tight..." she was muttering, and Solas couldn't help but think it was endearing.  _Infuriating woman_. "Falon pointed out that I've been... rude as of late. So I wanted to apologize, and also ask for you help with this damned headache. But apologies are first." Solas raised a brow at Falon, who looked up innocently, as if to say  _what_?   
  
"It is quite alright, lethallan." Solas approached the bed, stopping at Melana's side, who looked up at him with tired violet eyes, "I  _can_  help with your pain some, but more than anything you need fluids and rest." When she made a face, he couldn't help but chuckle, "Dalish mead is much smoother, it's what you're used to, no doubt, and that is why you feel so ill." Solas raised his hands to her temples, sending tendrils of magic into her and rubbing gently. Melana sighed happily as the pain left her, and leaned into his cool palm.   
  
"Oh thank you Solas... That's much better." She raised her hands to press his closer to her skin, "You're so cold... it's nice." She nuzzled into his palm, and Solas stood frozen; torn between snatching back his hands or letting them wander her heated skin. Melana paused and looked up at Solas, a sudden tension in her eyes, "Solas... so much has happened... I-I'm sorry." She closed her eyes against the sudden well of emotion in her voice, "I was scared that you were taking Falon away from me or that... that you would both leave..." Solas's heart skipped a beat, "I'm so confused, so lost... But I feel like I've found the family I never had. You, Varric, Cassandra... No one has ever treated me the way you do. I'm bound to mess up and over react, so thank you for not being upset with me, even when it would be understandable," Solas sighed,  _how could I stay upset with you, vhenan?_  
  
"You have been put through so much, lethallan. Social graces are the least of your worries, now you need to rest. The last of the nobles are scheduled to arrive tomorrow, and I imagine that you'll demand me leave that  _instant_." She chuckled weakly,   
  
"Can you really blame me for wanting this all over with already?" Solas shook his head slightly, and smiled sadly,   
  
"I think many of us feel the same," Melana released his hands, and ran her own through her wild mane of hair,   
  
"I can't help but wonder if I was  _meant_  to do this. As if I was  _made_  just for it. My Keeper always told me I had to be destined for something, but I never truly thought I was anything but lost. Now..." She looked down at the mark on her hand, "Falon, this mark, my lack of past... Could I really just an agent of their 'Maker'?" She frowned down at the green mark, "Is my entire existence just the whim of a god?" Solas felt a pang,  _could this really be my doing?_    
  
"A god could have put the pieces in place, but it was  _you_ , and only you, that acted upon them. Do not discredit your own strength." His words were firm, quiet. She looked back up at him with a soft smile,   
  
"It may seem silly, but that means a lot to me..."   
  
"There is nothing silly about believing in yourself."  
  
"There  _is_  something incredibly corny about the way you say that, though." Her violet eyes twinkled with a coy hint of mischief, and it made Solas's heart swell. She was a stranger at times, but at others, she was the same woman he missed so dearly. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into an embrace, explain everything, confess everything. But as always, the elf kept a collected facade, regardless of the turmoil in his soul.   
  
"Anything to keep you well," the words were light, but held more many than Melana could know.  _It will be different this time._  "Now, rest. Please." He gestured at the bed beneath her, and she sighed,   
  
" _Fine_. But only for a bit."  
  
****  
  
After Solas left her cabin, Melana had left the bed, and curled up with Falon on the floor. She slept fitfully, thanks to Solas's magic. After a long nap, she and Falon went to train in the woods again. To avoid the training grounds, and  _that man_  she had Falon leap over Haven's wall behind the Chantry.  
  
****  
  
"So how'd it go, Curly?" Varric nudged the taller man, the two were sitting at the bar at the tavern, Cullen eyed the dwarf warily,   
  
"You did that on  _purpose_ , didn't you?" Varric cackled,   
  
"Who,  _me_? Never! It isn't like I noticed how the two of you  _drool_  at the sight of the other, and it certainly isn't like I saw cards as a perfect opportunity to get the two of you alone together." Cullen sighed angrily, and took a hefty drink from his pint,   
  
"I appreciate the sentiment, Varric, but please stop trying to play matchmaker. You're much better at writing beheadings. Have you  _read_  'Swords and Shields'? It is no 'Hard in Hightown', that is for sure." Varric scoffed,   
  
"Okay, so you didn't have the brass to make a move on her, I get in. No need to bash what I already know is the worst thing I've ever written." When Cullen didn't reply, the dwarf raised a brow,   
  
"You  _did_ make a move!" Cullen groaned, draining his mug. Varric gaped at him, "What, did she turn you down?" Cullen sighed,   
  
" _She_  made a move. And  _I_  turned her down." he said quietly, staring at the wooden bar top. Varric was speechless for several moments before exclaiming disbelief,   
  
"You  _WHAT?_!"   
  
"Quiet!" Cullen hissed, as several heads turned their way. Varric crossed his arms,   
  
"Explain yourself. Now." The writer's voice was laced with a slight venom that surprised Cullen.  _Maker, everyone is up in arms over her. Which is why you cannot get involved._    
  
"She is the  _Herald._ "   
  
"That is your logic? Really? What, you scared the Maker and Holy Andraste are gonna come down from the heavens and lob your nuts off?" Varric's voice was low, but emphatic. Cullen shook his head, sighing,   
  
"It's not that simple. I would just hurt her in the long run. She deserves someone who will take care of her."   
  
"Oh, like  _Solas_?" Cullen looked over at Varric sharply, "What, surprised? They are both elves."   
  
"Why aren't you out rooting for him, then?"   
  
"I don't trust him." Varric replied quietly. "He is hiding something, and I don't like it." It was Cullen's turn to raise a brow, "You can't tell me the guy doesn't set you on edge, just a little bit." The templar paused,   
  
"His magic does seem... different. Even for a hedge mage. You don't-" his voice lowered to a whisper, "you don't think he's involved in the Breach somehow, do you?" Varric frowned, shaking his head,   
  
"I'm not sure. I don't think he killed the Devine, no. But he knows more about it than he's telling, I know that much." the dwarf looked over at Cullen, serious, "I don't want Sparky getting hurt. So if you care about her at all, you either swallow whatever your dealing with and let her know how you feel, or you stay away from her." The dwarf stepped away from the bar, "Just know that if you don't, Solas might." And with that the dwarf left.  Cullen looked down at his hands, which were clinched into fists. With a bit of effort, they relaxed. The thought of Solas  _looking_  at her had infuriated him. The thought of him  _with_  her? It was too much to bear.  _If he truly is involved with the Breach..._  Cullen pushed away from the bar, resolute.   
  
****  
   
The last of the nobles trickled in by late evening, two days after the game of Wicked Grace. A large party was decided to go to meet with the Templars. Melana, Cassandra, Solas, Varric, and also Cullen, who had requested to go, due to his being a former templar. Melana was uncomfortable with him going, embarassed by her brazen actions the night before, but had said nothing when Cassandra informed her of the decision. They left at dawn the next day, Cassandra and Cullen riding in front of the nobles, Varric, Solas, and Melana on Falon's back, behind them. The three bantered back and forth over the use of lyrium, something Melana had never personally used.   
  
"They  _drink_  it though? Why?" Melan asked, referring to the templars, "I thought only mages did that?" Varric shrugged,   
  
"It grants them the power to block magic,"  _ **That's why it's hard for me to talk around them, da'assan. My tether to the Fade is weaker around them**_.Melana frowned,   
  
"Solas, have you ever used lyrium?" The elf nodded,   
  
"Many mages do. It quickly leaves our system, however, due to our use of magic. Templars use it to do the opposite. It destroys their bodies over time, however, and it is highly addictive." He sounded disapproving,   
  
"We never used it at my clan. Never any need to, I guess. After seeing red lyrium, I doubt I ever will. It  _sang_. And in Redcliffe..." she trailed off, her hands tightening in Falon's fur. "And it's dangerous, even blue, right?"  
  
"Dwarves are the ones able to mine the stuff, and even then, it kills the ones who aren't careful," agreed Varric.   
  
"But the Seekers are members of the Templar Order, too, right? Cassandra doesn't use lyrium." the confusion was plain in Melana's voice.  
  
"The Seekers go through a year long meditation and walk out with their abilities. Not many can do that, so the option of drinking a draught of lyrium each day makes more sense... to them." he explained.   
  
"I see..."  
  
****  
  
They arrived at their camp early that evening, just an hours ride from Therinfal Redoubt. Melana sat away from the camp, in a massive apple tree. She sat on a gnarled branch far above Falon's head, who sat on the forest floor, tails wagging. Melana was dangling an apple above him.  _ **Da'assannnn! Nowww!**_  He howled demandingly. She laughed, as Falon stood up against the mighty trunk, tails wagging and tongue flopping out like a common war dog. She hung down from the branch, her legs gripping the rough bark while her torso and arms hung downward, apple in hand. "Alright, you want the apple? Jump!" Without hesitation Falon pushed off of the tree trunk, flying up through the air, nimbly taking the apple from her hand. He landed neatly, quickly crunching down the treat, looking up at Melana expectantly. "Okay, okay, one second, Greedy." She pulled herself back up onto the branch. After dropping two of the apples down to Falon, she laid back against the tree trunk, content with her position in the tree. The brilliant oranges and reds of the sunset shone through the leafy canopy as a soft breeze blew through.  _It's almost like home here, Falon. **Apples.**_  She laughed at his insistence. "You eat anymore apples and you're going to be sick!" She leaned over the branch to look at him. His white fur looked orange in the setting sunlight, and his gold eyes sparkled, begging for his favorite treat. Melana sighed, rolling her eyes, "I can  _feel_  you drooling in my head, Falon. That's gross." He yipped sassily at her, eyes trained at the apples above her.  " _Fine!_  Jeez." She stood up once more, picking and dropping a few more apples. She tossed each one, making Falon jump and bound to snatch them up before they hit the ground. He whined when she stopped, but begrudgingly agreed to quit if she picked and packed some for later. She was hanging from a branch, reaching for a particularly large apple when Falon alerted her to an approaching presence.  ** _Your shemlen is headed this way._**  Falon said the words with a disdain that made her smile,  _you're so cute when you're mad._  Falon huffed in response, mumbling about how fearsome he was.   
  
The Commander approached them slowly, seeing only Falon at the base of the tree. "Good evening Falon, where-"  
  
"Up here!" Melana called from her spot in the tree. Cullen's eyes widened. She was still hanging from the branch. upside down. Her shirt had fallen down, revealing her toned midriff, and her hair was wild. She smirked down at the Commander, "What, never seen a Dalish in a tree before?" Her tone was cool, but hinted with acid. She had at first been embarrassed by her actions, but now she was furious with the Commander for his.   
  
"I can't say I have, no." His voice was light, warm, and it infuriated her. Her heart still fluttered at the sound, and her stomach still wrapped itself in knots when she saw him. She plucked the apple she had been focused on, and tucked it quickly into her rucksack. Melana dropped nimbly to the branch ten feet below her, earning a shocked gasp from Cullen. She chuckled at his surprise, and continued her descent, dropping acrobatically from limb to limb, before dropping to the ground with mid-air flip just for shock value. Falon rolled his eyes beside her,  _ **Show off.**_  Melana laughed, ruffling his ears, "Oh quiet you. You're just mad because  _I_  have all your apples." She shook the strap of the bag on her shoulder, and Falon growled,  _ **probably all bruised now.**_  She chuckled, then turned to face the Commander, who stood a few feet away.   
  
"That was..." he looked back up at the height of the tree, then back down to her, awe plain on his face, "That was amazing." Melana paused, wary of his open praise,   
  
"I suppose... Falon has an undying love of apples, so he always had me climb up into trees to get the best ones near the top." Cullen nodded,   
  
"I see. An impressive skill, none the less. You looked as at home in those branches as you do with a bow in your hands. Graceful and deadly..." He chuckled, "You must have been the envy of all the hunters in your clan." Melana raised a brow,   
  
"Maybe... Was there something you needed, Commander?" His smile was slowly disarming her cold facade and it bothered her.  _What does he have to be so happy about?_  He rubbed the back of his neck, and took a few steps closer toward her, bringing him an arm's length from her.   
  
"Honestly, I came to apologize, and explain." She frowned, and he sighed, looking up at the sky, "Maker, I'm awful at this." His eyes came back to meet hers, serious. "I... never imagined you could be  _interested_  in me. I was caught off guard, and worried that you only acted out of impulse. And then, if it  _wasn't_  impulse, than you wouldn't want me, not really..." he chuckled sadly, "Varric properly kicked me in the head and made me realize that I needed to be honest with you." Melana crossed her arms, trying to hold on to her nerve.  
  
"Honest about what, exactly?" her voice was softer than she had intended, and she internally cursed. Cullen sighed heavily,   
  
"As I'm sure you know, templar's gain their abilities from drinking lyrium. It empowers, but also leashes us. I've... stopped taking it." Melana's eyes widened, whatever she had been expecting, it was not that.   
  
"Isn't that dangerous?" He raised his shoulders in a slight shrug,   
  
"Those who stop go through withdrawls, in extreme cases they can be fatal... But I  _refuse_  to let it control me any longer." Melana gave up on trying to be mad, concern taking over,   
  
"Cullen, if this could kill you..." he smiled,   
  
"That's the first time you haven't called me 'Commander'. And it hasn't yet. Cassandra is the only other person who knows about this, and I have asked her to keep an eye on me. She is to relieve me of my post if I become incapable of performing my duty to the Inquisition..."  _ **That explains why he isn't as painful as the others**_ , remarked Falon. Melana looked up at Cullen in new light,  _so this is the struggle he carries, or at least part of it._  "I wanted to explain this to you because it played a part in why I pushed you away. I could not bear the thought that I may hurt you in any way... and I-" Melana cut him off by hugging him.   
  
"You think too much," her voice was muffled into his shirt. Cullen chuckled, placing a hand on the small of her back. His touch was warm, sending zings of excitement down her spine.  
  
"I suppose I do." Melana looked up at him, heart beating fast.  _The effect he has on me... it is a drug._  "Melana..." his voice was soft, warm. She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck,  _screw it, I want this._  
  
"Yes,  _Cullen_?" He chuckled as he leaned down, stopping just inches from her face,   
  
"Last chance..." She smirked,   
  
"For you to run? Yes it is. I won't take no for an answer after this," she teased. Smirking, he kissed her. Falon huffed in disgust behind her, but she ignored him, returning the kiss with eagerness. Her heart fluttered and her entire body tingled. When they pulled apart a few moments later, she was breathless. And she wanted  _more_. Cullen looked down at her, face flushed,   
  
"That was..."  
  
"Worth the wait." Cullen smiled,  
  
"I'll be missed at camp before too long..." she pouted, and he grinned, "Though I could probably spare a few more minutes." He kissed her cheek, and Melana felt warmed by the sweet simplicity of the gesture. Falon growled and surprised, Cullen took a step back from Melana. She turned back to Falon, upset,   
  
" _What_?" Falon glowered at Cullen, baring his teeth and ignoring Melana. "Falon,  _enough_." Her voice was firm, and echoed in the Fade. Whining, he looked at her,  _ **but he...**_  "He didn't do anything wrong." She walked over to Falon, who pressed his face against her chest, whimpering quietly.  _ **I thought you were mad at him, that you didn't want him anymore. If you chose him, where would I go?**_  She laughed quietly, petting his neck,  _You would go nowhere, silly. You are my only family, my best friend. Nothing will ever change that. Ar lathuth, Falon._  
  
"Should I go...?" Cullen was standing awkwardly a few feet away during the silent exchange, wary of Falon's response. He had seen what the beast could do to demons, he had no interest in learning how quickly he could dismember a human. Melana turned back to face him. She ruffled Falon's ears before taking the few step back to Cullen. She smiled shyly,   
  
"That may be the best for now..." She pulled Cullen down for a quick kiss, the ease of the action thrilling, "But we can talk, after tomorrow?" He smiled,   
  
"I'd like that."  
  
****  
  
Melana had gone back to camp floating on a cloud. The promise of meeting with Cullen after the templars were dealt with cast her entire mind in a haze of giddiness. It took all her might to bite back her grin when she joined the party at the campfire. All were merry, at ease.  _Perhaps all can be well after all..._  she thought blissfully as she gazed off into the fire, idle in her thoughts. A glimmer of icy blue flashed red, and she jerked back into focus. Solas sat across the circle from her, his gaze steady. When her violet eyes looked up to meet him, his head cocked ever so slightly, and then he stood up calmly, and walked away from the camp. Falon left her side to meet the retreating elf, and Melana frowned.  _Was it a trick of the light? His eyes... red?_    
  
****  
  
The next morning, Melana, Falon, Cassandra, Cullen, and the Orlesian nobles left for Therinfal Redoubt. When they arrived they were greeted by a group of templars, who directed them to a main courtyard. There, they asked Melana to raise three flag in order of personal importance before entering. Melana thought nothing of it, and raised them in order of People-Templars-Chantry. As they entered a receiving room, something set her on edge. It took a few minutes before she realized what it was.  _ **Red lyrium!**_  She and Falon both came to the conclusion at once. She tensed, she could feel it  _singing_  from the templar nearest to her. Through gritted teeth she told a pushy noble to back away from him. Cassandra, who could sense Melana's sudden tension, reached slowly for the pommel of her sword. The templar cackled, drawing on and slaying the Orlesian before anyone could stop him. A fight suddenly burst out in the small quarters, some templars attacking their brothers. One grazed Melana's thigh with the edge of their sword before Falon shredded the man. Instinctively, she conjured daggers in both hands, Lunging at any templar who sang with the sickening song. As soon as she realized it was there, her senses honed onto it, making it deafening. As the last red templar was felled, she dropped her daggers, which shattered before they could reach the floor, and leaned against her knees, heaving. Her stomach rolled, the nearness of the red was  _sickening_. Cullen and Falon were at her side in seconds. With gentle hands Cullen pulled her hair behind her, which she had foolishly left down that morning. Falon too, felt ill, but only because of the wave of it that poured from her into his mind. After a few moments of dry gagging, Melana uneasily stood back up,   
  
"Those templars..." she was panting slightly, "They have been taking red lyrium..." She swallowed back another gag, straightening up as best she could, "I'm sorry about that, ever since Redcliffe I can  _feel_  the stuff. Like it's trying to crawl its way into my head..." She looked mostly at Cullen when she said this, a silent  _thank you_  clear in her eyes. Behind him, Cassandra was furious,   
  
"Those  _fools_!" The words were spat in the harsh delicacy that the Seeker had mastered, "This must be what caused the scene in Val Royeaux. We must find Lord Seeker Lucius, and put a stop to this  _at once_." The group all nodded, and after Cullen quickly communicated orders to the nearby templars to stand watch for others, they left for the great hall. After slaying a few more contaminated templars, they stepped into the hall. To their surprise, a group of templars were waiting for them, Seeker Lucius in chains. Cullen and Cassandra gave her a sideways glance, and she nodded,   
  
"They are clean." They approached warily, weapons drawn, one of the templars spoke,   
  
"He didn't even put up a fight m'lady." Melana frowned, stopping a few feet from them,   
  
"What?" The sour looking man looked up at her, an odd glimmer in his eyes. He hung limp in the arms of two templars, chained and seemingly accepting of his fate. But something in that look made Melana freeze.   
  
In an instant, the Seeker lunged, breaking free of the unsuspecting templars. He grabbed Melana, chains twinkling against stone, and then  _silence_. Her entire mind when black, blank, and silent.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
***I have a really hard time writing from Solas's perspective, but I like to give a little hint to everyone's feelings. I can write Cullen all day, and Melana all week. But Solas? GAHHHH. Which is why I rely heavily on dialogue to explain things. Also, yes, foxes love apples. And my husky, Ruger, goes  _nuts_  for apples and bananas. I wanted to add a cute scene between the two, because they are best friends, but he is still a dog-fox-guy. And I changed a LOT about these quests because A), its my fic and I CAN, and B), it allows for my warped plot to take place a little smoother. So just roll with it and smile. SHIT GETS REAL IN THE NEXT CHAPTER, GUYS. I'm so stupid excited, you don't even know. And I know the romance is a little light here, but you will soon understand, soooooooon. Bahahahahaha. Ahem. Mad with power guys. ***


	11. Whispers of the Just Pt. 4

***SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER  if you haven't beat the game, stop now, and go finish it. RIGHT. NOW. ***  
  
  
  
  
 ** _Falling...  
  
I'm... Falling?  
  
Help me! I'm falling!  
  
Someone! Anyone! Falon?!?!  
  
SMACK!!!_**  
  
 _Melana hit stone, cold and wet. With a groan, she tried to stand, wobbling. Everything was hazy, blackened and green. The dim room felt as if it was skewed, off center. A cold laugh echoed around her, and it sounded almost... like her?_  
  
 ** _"Oh Herald, how we've been_  dying _to meet you!"_** _  
  
She spun in circles, searching for the source of the voice, coming face to face with a twisted reflection of herself, a black shadow. It smirked at her, skin contorted pulling of grey skin. Melana gasped, stepping back, terrified.  
  
 **"Oh? Do you fear us, Herald? Are you AFRAID?!"**  
  
The spectre cackled, at her confused stumbling. Melana turned to run, but every direction she turned the shadow appeared. She scrambled on the slick stone, slipping at every turn, barely staying upright. She dashed to and fro, but always the twisted reflection remained in front of her, its demented laugh delighting in her scurry. Melana finally stopped, eyes hardening.  **"You don't scare me, demon."**  The shadow laughed,   
  
 **"No, of course you don't fear us. You are to brave, yes? Is that the kind of Herald you are? Oh we will remember this when we replace you..."**  
  
Melana paused, eyes widening at the implication. **"You... You're an Envy demon, aren't you?"**  The shadow smiled, a creepy contortion of it's false face,   
  
 **"A smart Herald, aren't we? Oh we will enjoy being you, oh yes..."**  
  
Envy crooned the words, a coveting longing in it's voice. It stroked its own cheek, sighing with pleasure. Melana could not hold in the disgust she felt at the sickening gesture, and Envy chuckled darkly,  
  
 **"We will own you, Herald. We will break you, and then... we will take you."**  
  
The demon's form shifted, mutating into Falon's. Melana felt her stomach roll, she could feel what Envy would do. It planned to torture and taunt her, learn her, and then replace her. It would use everything she cared about to do so.  **Creators, preserve me.**  Envy-Falon, choked out a growling laugh,   
  
 **"Does the Herald already wish to surrender to us?"**  
  
She clenched her hands into fists, and raised her chin at the spectre.  **"I have known more than one trickster in Fade, demon!"**  she spat,  **"You are no different."**  Envy chuckled as a second Melana appeared, repeatedly stabbing Envy-Falon in the side, each wound pouring icy blue blood. Melana flinched at each mark, but held firm.  **This is all a trick, this is all a trick**.  
  
 **"That may be true, maybe... But you see, Herald, this is not the Fade. We are INSIDE your mind. You cannot wish us away, we are IN YOU."**  
  
Melana hissed through her teeth,  **"Fenedhis lasa..." Damn. Damn damn damnit.  
  
"Think of home..."**  
  
A quite voice spoke next to her, a scrawny boy in a wide-brimmed hat appearing at her side. She looked over at him questioningly, but he said nothing more. He felt... sweet, kind. Envy growled fiercely,   
  
 **"This is none of your concern, spirit! Be gone!"**  
  
Melana closed her eyes, focusing on the rolling grosses and soft breezes of the oak forest. She thought about the smell of apple blossoms and the sound of water bubbling against rock.   
  
 **"Good. You lost Envy. When you stretch, they stretch too. Wants to be you, but does not know you. Looking in all the wrong places..."**  
  
 The strange boy, was next to her again, the two stood in a familiar field, one Melana had not seen in years. She pondered the boy beside her. He appeared only a few years younger than her, but he radiated innocence.  **"You're a spirit, aren't you? Why are you here, in my head?"** The spirit turned to her, pausing a moment before answering,   
  
 **"I felt the pain, the fear. I wanted to help, I reached out... You pulled me in."**  
  
Melana considered him for a moment, then smiled,  **"You must be Compassion!"**  The spirit stared at her blankly,   
  
 **"I am Cole."**    
  
He looked at the wood around them, then pointed ahead of him,  
  
 **"You need to go there. So much lost. It was locked away. You want it back, but can't find it. I can help."**  
  
Melana looked in the direction he pointed, and nodded slowly. Whatever this 'Cole' intended, she could sense no danger from him. She began walking in the direction he had pointed. She looked over her shoulder for Cole, but he had disappeared. As she walked, the terrain slowly changed from wood to ruin. Crumbled stone lay to either side, and she felt a sense of deja vu. All around her stood crumbled white marble, the skeleton of an ancient Elvhen temple.  **June. This was a temple of June.**  She frowned at the sudden knowledge, continuing deeper into the ruin. Slowly, the grass beneath her feet faded to finely carved marble floors. The forest canopy above her gave way to magnificent vaulted ceilings, and she instinctively knew where to turn in the winding maze of the temple. She found her way to great hall, an enormous space of sprawling pillars and intricate reliefs. At the end of the hall stood an eluvian, an Elvhen mirror portal. To either side of the eluvian were graceful fen'ethera statues. They stood against the eluvian, frozen in gold-gilded marble, forever howling at the temple ceiling. Melana stopped in the middle of the hall, compelled to freeze, to wait. For what, she did not know.   
  
A sudden wave of magic whipped through the hall, nearly knocking Melana off her feet. Instantly she recognized the feeling. It was the same as the Mark, as the Breach, as... Fen'Harel? The eluvian at the end of the hall rippled, responding to the wave of magic. Melana could not move, could not breathe. With a burst of brilliant white light, a figure flew out of the eluvian, hitting the marble floor with a fierce crash. The figure lay motionless for a few moments, before curling in a ball, gripping its chest, a quiet, pained sob echoing through the hall. Slowly, the figure sat up, and as soon as Melana saw the cascading black hair, and golden twinkle on skin, she knew.  **Melava**. The woman tried to stand, pained, confused. She faltered, falling against the nearby fen'ethera statue. She sobbed, a heart wrenching anguished sound that broke Melana's heart. She could feel the pain, the loneliness that radiated from Melava. She was whispering something Melana could not hear, but when she lay a hand on the statue's chest, suddenly Melana understood.   
  
The elf's gold vallasin glowed, her entire body twinkling with a yellow haze. She cried out in Elvish, her voice strained, weak. The hall flashed with a blinding light, and she began to collapse. A white paw caught her.  **Falon.**  Melana stared at the elf that now lay against a wall of white fur. The vallasin was gone, and she looked younger, now just a teen.   
  
 **"Awaking to the pain. So much pain. Can't stand the pain. So alone. Maybe if I... Yes, I can give it away, all of it. I can give June's gift away, begin anew. I will shed the wolf, and gain a friend."**  
  
Cole now stood at Melana's side, talking quietly. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she stared at her past self in the grasp of the newly created Falon. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, the scene was gone. The eluvian stood before her, the only object in a grassy plain.   
  
 **"That is the way to truth. Envy cannot follow. I do not know what is there. It may hurt..."**  
  
The spirit's voice was quiet, sad.  **"I know what is there Cole. Thank you for your help, but I think I need to go alone."**  Without another word he vanished, and Melana stepped toward the eluvian. She took a deep breath, and walked through the silvery surface.   
  
****  
  
Scenes played out before her, hazy and vibrant at once.   
  
\---Waking up on the morning of her anointment to priesthood. The swell of pride as the god June accepted her into his arms with a loving embrace. The youngest high priest in history. The god personally groomed her, trained her. He had placed the golden vallasin in her skin, a boon for her mastery of Craft. She was devout, always in the Chambers, refining the art of crafting the purest of creation, items of pure magic.   
  
\---Presenting her Father with her master creation, a mighty sword of beauty and strength. A magic woven in time permanently, never fading.   
  
\---The first time attending the Commune of the Gods, the summit at which all the gods and their high priests discuss their achievements for the betterment of society. She was shocked at the arguing. Her passive, loving June screaming at his godly brethren, the priests spitting at each other. She snuck away, to the quiet wood. It was there she met the Rebel Wolf for the first time. The youngest of the gods, he too was hiding from the angry fighting at the Commune. The two had laughed and smiled, running in the wood, free.   
  
\---Sneaking away to visit Fen'Harel, talking of the growing tension in between temples, the sudden secrecy. Her beloved June had grown cold, demanding weapons to be crafted, not art. She confessed fear of a clash between them, a rift in the People.  
  
\---Their first kiss, the first tender embrace.  
  
\---The inevitable civil war breaking out. Her fellow priests crying for blood of any elf who did not swear allegiance to June. Friends she had made in other temples spat on her, striking her. All over Elvhenan, skirmishes broke out.   
  
\---The Rebel Wolf telling her of his plan to stop the chaos, to eliminate the demands of their gods. She begged him not to do anything, she vainly hoped they would resolve themselves.   
  
\---She confessed her love, her fear of losing him. He promised to always love and protect her.  
  
\---The Dread Wolf's Great Betrayal, locking away all the gods. He vanished afterward.   
  
\---Trying to stop her father from fighting in the name of a god who no longer existed.  
  
\---The fatal wound inflicted on her chest, by the very sword she made for the father she had loved  so much.   
  
And then... waking up in the ruins of her once loved temple, racked by betrayal and pain. Fen'Harel had left her, even after he had sworn he loved her, sworn to protect her. Her own father had struck her down because she refused to hate her People, refused to raise a blade against them. She was alone, she knew it. Time had passed, the People were gone. She did not understand, did not wish to. So she stripped herself of her vallasin, using the last remaining magic of June to bestow part of her own life force onto the Fen'ethera statue. It took away part of her, her memories, her experience, her immortality, making her young, naive. She named it Falon, the Elvish word for friend. In honor of the loss of her past, she changed her name. She then collapsed, blissfully shedding her former slef.   
  
****_  
  
Melana came to, the Envy demon hissing in her face, wrapped around her where Seeker Lucius had been. Mercilessly, she drove a conjured dagger into it's chest, twisting the blade. It burst into green mist, returning to the Fade. The hall around her stood quiet, still. She looked over her shoulder at Falon, who instantly felt the change in her.  _ **Da'assan, you...**_   _We can discuss it later._  She felt oddly calm as she turned to the shocked templars who stood helplessly nearby. She couldn't help but chuckle. It rippled through her chest, light and merry, and soon became breathless laughter. Everyone stood frozen, completely confused. She laughed quietly for a few moments, before sighing and shaking her head,   
  
"Fenedhis lasa, ma halani... Your Seeker was an Envy demon, masquerading as Lucius for Mythal knows how long." The templars stared at her blankly. Her tone was light, sarcastic, warm, everything that one would  _not_ expect it to be. She raised a brow at the slack jawed templars, "You still have brothers corrupted by this red lyrium, yes? Should you not be rounding them up or something of the like?" The men snapped to attention, then marched out of the hall. Melana smirked as she watched them go.  _Suddenly, this Herald business isn't as scary_. She turned to Cullen and Cassandra, who stood behind her. Cassandra was shaking her head, muttering something about the Maker. Cullen was frowning, deeply concerned.   
  
"Are you alright...?"   
  
"Actually, I'm better than I have been in a very long time." She smiled at him, "But I have something I must do, so I'm sure you two can handle the rest of the red templars? Something tells me that you won't find many left here. I will meet you both in Haven. Bring the remaining templars with you. They will need space to rebuild." She began walking toward the hall doors, Falon tight by her side, his aura questioning, but silent. Cullen and Cassandra were only a few steps behind her. "And Cullen?" She stopped in the open doorway, turning to him, "I will have to delay our 'talk', but I have not forgotten it." Cullen's eyes flashed with concern, confusion, and finally acceptance. He nodded, something in her eyes told him not to question.   
  
"Where are you going, Herald?" Cassandra asked quietly. Melana tilted her head ever so slightly,   
  
"Home."  
  
****  
  
Cullen had watched Melana pull herself onto Falon's back and disappear, the mighty white beast weaving easily through the skirmishing templars. He had sighed, shaking his head, and then set about the task set before him. As she had predicted, most of the 'red templars' were gone, sent away by the Envy-Seeker presumably to prevent the lower ranking officers from getting suspicious. Cullen was relieved to find many of the lower ranking templars had not yet starting taking the red lyrium. Only a handful of templars of rank remained, however, Knight-Templar Barris among them. Cullen and Barris had exchanged a firm handshake, an acknowledgement of Cullen's former rank. The surviving templars looked to Barris for direction, and Cullen could see the greatness that would soon follow the younger man. Cassandra extended Melana's invitation to Haven, which Barris graciously accepted. They gathered their wounded and planned to make the trek to Haven that very evening, wishing to leave the darkness at Therinfal Redoubt far behind.   
  
That evening, Cullen found himself sitting beneath the very apple tree he had found Melana in the night before. He tossed an apple up in the air, catching it neatly in own hand before tossing it again and catching it in the other. He sighed, leaning against the ancient wood of the massive tree.  _Melana..._  he thought back to the bold way that she had kissed him, the gentle way she had teased him.  _Makers breath, what have I gotten myself into?_  He had been so determined to protect her, to... to... He scoffed,  _what did I expect to happen? May not of been that, but I hoped, didn't I?_ Cullen shook his head, smiling despite himself. His whole body was warm, content. He had indeed wanted her, and now, he knew she wanted him as well. In a way, it was enough, wasn't it?  _But what about her exit today?_  He frowned slightly at the thought.  _What of the demon?_ The reveal of the Envy demon had been shocking, but so quick, he hadn't considered that her rushed exit had anything to do with it. It clicked suddenly, and he felt the fool. He had himself encountered a demon, and he knew that a moment with them could feel like years.  _What had the Envy done to her?_  She had seemed so serene afterward, as if she had suddenly discovered something. And she said she was going 'home'. Was she not from the Free Marches? The journey would take weeks, and a trip at sea. How long did she intend to be gone? His stomach rolled at the thought of not seeing her for that long. There was so much he wished to say, to ask, to explain. He knew he cared for her... but did he truly know her?  
  
  
  
  
***I took some liberties with the Elvish past, but most of what I wrote is based on wiki info. The Elves fell to civil war before and during the Great Betrayal of Fen'Harel, who thought locking the gods away would make things better. The reason for the war was unclear, so I tried to fill in the gaps as best I could. And sorry if her memory regain was lame, I wanted it to be brief, jotty. Also I thought it would be more fun if Envy spoke in 3rd person because it has been so many people... In the case of the red templars, because I wanted to acquire both mages and templars, I decided most of the templars should be gone, because they arrive too late. They were sent to Coryphenus as they mutated to avoid suspicion. ^^ A little light on Cullen's POV because... I dunno emotions aren't in me today. Lazy writing at its best. :b***  
  
  
 **A special thank you to Kaitlyn and Grace, this chapter is for you! (I may just name a character after you! ;D ) Your kind words helped me push on and finish this chapter! Love to all my dearest darling readers!**


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